Falling In Love Is Hard On The Knees
by Andariel666
Summary: COMPLETE My name is Carrie. I don't know how I got here, or even WHY I'm here, but I have decisions to make decisions that could change a world. But I was never known for my good decisions. What will I do?
1. Prologue

A/N: Heya! This is a fic I wrote a while ago, and originally it was posted at Rusted Faith under my other author alias, Chaos's Aces. Reviews are welcome – in fact, PLEASE review! Lol, hope you enjoy the fic!

                  ~*~ Andariel666 ~*~

 *PROLOGUE* 

I was about ten when I decided I had to grow up fast to survive. That isn't necessarily a nice thing, I can tell you. Everyone needs their childhood. Hell, some adults even stay childish and immature. There's a magic about the playful innocence of a child, don't you think? Well, I suppose that isn't all that wise coming from me, because I normally avoid children like they were the plague. I always have avoided them, since I was about eight years old. They didn't like me, and in turn, I didn't like them. I was always nice to them, so I didn't really understand why they disliked me. Maybe it was because I was overweight. That was always an issue. Did you know my parents kept trying to _bribe me to lose weight? Seriously. _

  I finally lost weight when I was fifteen. I had been out of school for god knows how long due to my anti-social habit of having panic attacks whenever I got afraid. I think I was out of school for something like four years. I did try, believe me. I tried so hard – I wanted my parents, my brothers and sister and my few friends to be so proud of me. Didn't help. Eventually, I pulled my act together. It had been tough. I went through years of yo-yoing depression, self-harm and being really, _really cruel to everyone. At one point, when I ran into a girl who picked on me, I really considered murder. I could have. My hand went to the bulge in my pocket, where my pocket knife was. But I let it go with a firm palmer to her face. I wasn't cruel enough to kill. I always have been a bit of a softy when it came to defending myself. I'd let my brothers walk all over me, if I thought it would keep the peace._

  Let's talk about them, shall I? Just a quick history on me, before I tell my full story, so that you understand my reasons? I have three brothers and one sister. The oldest brother is Downes Syndrome. He used to be so fun, before he was abused at his training centre. Then he got Alzheimer's disease. People tried to find out what happened, but it had all been covered up. We will never know what happened to Danny. Now he's incontinent, in nappies. He cries a lot, whether it's from memories or from pain in his gut, no one knows. He has a lot of lacerations in his stomach, a lot of pain. He vomits at least five times a day, though admittedly, that's all because he makes himself vomit. No one knows why. He's just gone mentally.

  The next brother is Tommy. Now, I suppose Tommy is my favourite brother. Why am I picking favourites? I'll tell you after the introductions. Tommy is bright, outgoing, funny, and rather crass at times. He tells all about his sexual experiences with his wife whether you want to hear them or not. He is married to Kimberly. I like Kimberly. No one else seems to – because she has strange moods where she'll be really friendly one minute, then hostile the next. She has never been hostile to me though. She and my sister hate each other, with a capitol H. But we're friends, and we have what we call Harry Potter days – where we gather and speak of the famous books, because we both love them. Tommy and Kimmy have a son, Reiss. I adore Reiss – he's sweet, funny, kind, never raises his hand, and he's quite an artist – even at four years old. 

  Back to Tommy. Tommy is quite successful – a salesman, but he earns good money. He can be quite generous, and he's very caring. I remember a time when we were arguing so much my mum threatened to crack our heads together. But now we're inseparable. And because he understands the trouble at home, where business with Danny and everyone else (I'll explain in a minute) gets me down, he even made a skeleton key for his house and gave it to me.

  The other brother is Jack. He used to be my favourite brother. I always used to think that in all of England, there was no one quite like him. But he changed. Like me, Jack was always – and probably will always be – a loner. Mainly because of lack of confidence, anti-social behaviour, and kind of politeness that is too polite, if you get my meaning. He then discovered the internet. Let's just say, he discovered a woman in America and decided to pack up everything – family, friends, job – to go to America and probably one day end up marrying her. We all thought he was crazy. Not only because, well, who in their right mind would hitch all the way to America for a woman on the internet? Who has two kids and is still married, for heaven's sake? Not to mention what Mark said. Mark was Jack's friend – I'll tell more about him after my family. Mark had learned that this woman had pulled men off the net before, and that she did it regularly. Jack, of course, ignored Mark. Even neglected him. This annoyed me very much, because me and everyone else aside from Jack knew there was something stinky in the whole thing. I'd talked to this woman online as well. She was too saccharine and quick to agree for my liking. Eventually, though, his infatuation mysteriously sizzled out, through some argument instigated by her. Jack is still withdrawn and abrasive at times, but at least he got smart. For the time being, anyway.

  My sister Penny. Penny is probably my second favourite, and that is what confuses me. See, Penny is the one who overshadows me. My family never sees me so long as she is in the room. They think the sun shines out of her ass. In some of my more nastier moods, I could point out that she bleeds off the family, wheedling money, using us as babysitters, and that she is jobless, stuck with a man twice her age - Rob, constantly in depression, sharp of tongue and quite abrasive. She made me cry a lot in the past, though I never gave her the satisfaction of seeing it. 

  She has two kids, Leela and Jessie. Both of which she had post-natal depression with and they were left with us to raise. Now, I can say a lot about those kids. Leela was sweet at first, but she grew up to her four years of age being rude, spiteful, and quite annoying. I told you I had trouble at school with bullies, right? Well, Leela only had to hit me three times and that was it. I didn't want to know anymore. That's the way it is. I did try later on, but she repeated the performance. Jessie is only three months old, but she smiles, coos, laughs, cries, and farts, but I still love her. I just hope she doesn't grow up to be abrasive like her sister.

  Anyway, Penny. Penny, overshadowing me as the perfect daughter, turned to me. I became her agony aunt, her babysitter, the one to turn to when in doubt. And I let her. I may be resentful, but I'm not callous. And when the mood hits Penny right, she can be funny, nice, and a true sister.

  My parents. My dad, Wes, is one of those old-fashioned men. He's one of the most patient, kind men in the world. I'd be lucky to find a man half as decent as him. But he has a problem with saying no. Especially when it comes to Leela and Penny. Dad also uses me as an agony aunt sometimes, saying I'm smart and that to have a good perspective. I listen to him, talking about Danny (whom he has to care for 24/7, and it's slowly wearing him down – he's beginning to give up) and problems with mum. I listen because I like the attention – I rarely get it, after all. Aside from that, he's all Penny Penny Penny. 

  My mum, Abby, is a strange fish. She always used to be one of those kind people who also had an authority and a warning streak that is appropriate of a mother. I always felt neglected by her though. I definitely feel it now. She hit a nervous breakdown after my favourite uncle died, and spent four months in a psychiatric ward, threatening to kill herself and the like. Those bastard nurses told her it was Danny's fault, and she's been wanting him out of the house ever since. Mum sticks me in the middle sometimes, and I hate it. I used to look after her in her breakdown, sitting with her whilst she bathed, looking after her. It go so that when she recovered (if she ever recovered) I was worried every time she left the house. She's still distant, and she seems to shun all responsibility. She didn't like Danny's nightly habits of getting up in the middle of the night in the bedroom next to hers and dad's. So she cleared out the storage room and turned it into a bedroom.

  That's my family. How can I not pick favourites when some excel the others so much, in my opinion? 

  Let me move on to friends. I'll start with my friend Berry. Berry has ME, and she's in a wheelchair. She may not be able to move about much, but she is so much like myself it's scary. We think alike, like the same stuff, and treat each other as sisters. She's helped me through many emotional problems, and I hope that in turn I have helped her too.

  My cousin Thalia. I've known her all my life and we've always kept in contact through letters. But I don't really trust her. Some things I will tell her, but she only knows about two fifths of my problems. We argue a lot because we're opposites, and she can be very stuck up. She thinks she's the queen of her town, and when people get egos like that, it makes me very angry. There's a lot I wouldn't tell her, simply because I don't see her trustworthy. I love her, but there's only so much you can do. She would choose the worst boyfriend over our friendship.

  And now Mark, Jack's friend. It seems unfair to mention him at this late point. Remember I said that I eventually pulled my act together? It was because of Mark. After Jack neglected him, I took to talking to him over the internet. We talked a lot, and he agreed with me on so much that I realised I had a valuable friend. He was at our house more than he was at his. When I told him I had been offered a pre-sixteen spot at college, he encouraged me vigorously. I was considering it seriously. Then I had a sharp shove that made me make my mind up.

  On New Year's Day Mark died of cancer. His eight year battle ended abruptly when I parasite caught in Majorca attacked his immune system with the cancer. I cried myself to sleep for weeks. I became withdrawn, unhappy. Jack wasn't there for the cremation. At that time, he was in America with his internet lady. 

  I would spend nights staring at my copy of Lord of the Rings and remember how Mark loved it. When I read it, I could see why. 

  And one day, I sat up, and thought, yes. I will go to college for you, Mark. I went to the interview, a day before my birthday. And started college. It was very hard, throwing myself in at the deep end. But I learned to swim. Not literally. I can't swim for the life of me. But I soon started piecing myself back together again.

  So that is my history, or at least, a little of it. I won't say much about myself, because in this story, you will get to know me anyway. But I will say this – if I seem like two different people at times, that's because I am. It's up to you to decide which one is real.

  This is my story about how my life changed drastically one day when my life started to take a nose-dive. This is my story of love, hate, passion, violence, death, and that little word 'goodbye'. 


	2. The Show Must Go On

Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance  
Another heartache, another failed romance  
On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?  
I guess I'm learning, I must be warmer now  
I'll soon be turning, round the corner now  
Outside the dawn is breaking  
But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free

- Queen, The Show Must Go On

  I wasn't feeling all that great. I had a headache that reminded me of those movies where a killer whacks someone round the head with a sledge hammer. My pelvis was hurting too, as were my ribs. Why was I in a bad condition? Well, let me see. I'd just been to Hastings with Penny, Leela and Rob whilst Mama looked after Jessie. It started out as an okay trip, but Leela got into one of her usual bratty moods, which rapidly diminished any happiness there was. I tried _really _hard to make Penny feel better, but this time my humour and wit didn't do anything for my poor sister. 

  I'd been on a ride with her that went pretty fast, and had Penny squashing me against the side so that I wondered if the ride people would have to scrape me off with a shovel. Penny isn't heavy or anything – if anything, she could run for Twiggy's stunt double, but still – it's not nice moving at a speed with someone crushing you!

   Anyway, that explains my pelvis. The ride stops halfway through and starts bumping up and down. Therefore the side of the car was playing my ribs like a xylophone, hence the pain and the huge bruise. 

  "Is this what sex is like?" I laughed to Penny.

  "Kind of, only sex isn't as exciting!" She laughed back. Well, that put an end to my ideas of sex being fun. Not that I would know. I was twenty-two and still a virgin. In fact, I'd only ever had one boyfriend, and that didn't end well. I smashed his head against the car steering wheel when he tried to get too comfortable. His nose is a little offset where I broke it, but he survived. As I said before, I'm anti-social – especially with the opposite sex. 

  I got home and as soon as Penny, Rob, Leela and Jessie left, I darted up for a shower. I needed to calm myself. When we'd got home, dad and mum hardly noticed I existed. They were all over Penny. That stung. We'd got some pictures taken, and the one of me on my own got shoved aside. They have a way of making their daughter feel loved, don't they? 

  I'd picked up Jack some rock. He was as thankful as Jack gets, I suppose. The guy is 26, I'll bet he still lives at home by the time he's forty. 

  I had a long shower in which I discovered my lovely purple, red and yellow bruise. After I'd finished, I cleaned my face thoroughly, and took my time to try and make myself feel human. Leela's little performance at Hastings, especially when flinging her cola around in an expensive leather shop, had disgusted and upset everyone, and I was feeling quite depressed – though not only over Leela, but over mum and dad's failure to notice that they had two daughters, not just one. 

  I'd had a lot on my mind lately. Mainly because since I'd finished college, I had very little to do. I spent my days talking on the net to Berry and Thalia, listening to music and/or running around trying to see what I could do. Being bored gives people time to think, which isn't always necessarily a good thing, depending on what you think about. I needed a job, that was for certain. The small job I had – drawing portraits and pictures from photographs. It made good money, I'll admit, but at the same time, not many people desired pencil work. And most of the time, I don't really care about the money – I just love the idea that someone has one of my drawings on the wall, that the time I spent was cherished. 

  Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. Thinking. Thinking is a dangerous thing, you know. It confuses, hurts, angers, loves, and all the other emotions under the sun. Worse of all? It makes me realise exactly how messed up my life has been and in many ways, still is.

  I say I don't want a boyfriend – that boys are a waste of valuable time and space. And that is true to me. But sometimes, I wonder what it is like to be loved. And wonder why no one has ever really asked me out. Thalia says it's because I threaten to murder people and try to set them on fire. Thalia don't know shit. But then, I can be scary sometimes. I know that. But I shouldn't dwell on it. If they don't like what they see, they can fuck off. 

  After I was done with my shower, I pretty much gave my parents the cold shoulder. My dad is obsessed with depression. If you don't want to smile, its depression. If you don't get one of his jokes, oh my god! It's _depression! So of course, when I was slightly colder, he thought I was depressed. Maybe I was. What could he do about it? I could hardly tell him I hate how he prefers Penny, because he'd just deny it. It's hard having no proof but your own eyes and feelings. _

  Dad had told me to always share my feelings with him, since the time I decided to tell him that I'd self-harmed. But I can't tell him – it seems so wrong. So wrong…

  Tommy popped round for a short while. He'd been having some fights with Kimberly, was feeling a little lonely. I stayed down for a little while, then went upstairs.

  I stayed in my room for the rest of the night, listening to music on my computer, drawing pictures, and I even cried a little. Queen's 'The Show Must Go On' was played at Mark's funeral, and I listen to it to think of him. Putting the song on that day tipped me over the edge a little, and I grabbed my teddy and cried into its fur. Pathetic? Maybe. But at least I chose crying than acting on my impulses and thumping anything or anyone.

  I stayed up in bed that night, reading Richard Laymon's 'Island'. It was an odd book, not my normal sort, but it was also good. I didn't get very far, however, when I felt a familiar boredom come over me. I need to move around a bit. I stood carefully, placing my book on the bedside table, and I walked over to my window to close it. Even on the hottest nights, I had to close my window because the extended room built for Danny was directly under my window, so thieves roaming the railway line that ran behind the gardens along our street could easily clamber onto the roof and through my window. So I shut it. 

  Before I shut it, though, I looked out upon the world. The houses twinkling in the distance, our neighbours' yards with the various breeds of dogs barking at foxes and badgers. At our own overgrown garden, looking like something from Jurassic Park. I wouldn't have been surprised if there were dinosaurs out there. Lastly, I looked upon the sky, the breeze stirring my hair. 

  When I was a little girl, I was told the stars were your deceased loved ones staring down at you from heaven, and that the brightest star was the one you loved the most. I had a hard time believing that, because I loved most of my relatives equally. I'd always pretend the star was my poor cat Mischief, who got run over right in front of me. But when my uncle died, I always treated that star as being him. He meant a lot to me, always would. The second brightest star, well, I always pretended that was Mark.

  As I stared at the sky, a shooting star streaked across it, and a small smile tugged at my lips. Another thing I'd always been told as a child. When you see a shooting star, wish upon it, and your wish would come true.

  Why not? I thought to myself. After all, it's not as if you have anything to lose. So I closed my eyes, and thought, _I wish I had a reason to live._

  Morbid? Perhaps. Desperate? Definitely. I was so desperate to sink once more into a pit of depression and never arise again, maybe I thought it would stop the pain or something. But I also didn't want to sink away. Thanks to Mark, I had tasted what it felt like to have a real life, and I wanted more.

  Sighing, I stuck a joss stick in the holder and lit it with my black lighter, slipping it into my pocket and watching the tendrils of scented smoke billow around the room. I slumped onto my back on my bed and stared at the white ceiling . I hugged my teddy, Dozey, the dog who I had cuddled earlier as I wept into his cream fur, close to me. I kept him there, even at 22, because ever since I was 5, I had been plagued with nightmares. I had discovered that the only way to keep them away was either to use the gift I had for controlling my actions in a dream or waking myself up, or hug a teddy.

  I felt so pathetic, living at my parents' house at this age. But since I was also pathetic in the working and money area, I couldn't support myself alone for two days. I had no choice. I just hoped I didn't end up like Jack, forever tied to my computer and strange Americans. 

  Slowly, my eyes began to shut, and my last thought was, _why is it that everyone who means a lot to me either walks or way or dies? Why is it that I always have to say goodbye?_


	3. Lost

I woke up, and I knew by the stinging, sticky feeling in my eyes that it was still fairly early for me. I wondered briefly what had woken me. Perhaps it was someone in my room? That normally woke me. I'm a very private person, and if anyone steps into my territory, then I normally get all ballistic about it.

  It took me a moment to realise that someone probably had been in my room, because light was shining in my face, and I _never _open my curtains. Never. And it was at that same time that I realised that I wasn't in my bed. The ground was slightly damp, and it was…grass.

  I leapt up into a sitting position. Okay, I was definitely not in my bedroom. I was in a woodland area, a forest. Trees as tall and healthy as anything I had ever seen before, with sun filtering through the canopies onto beautiful, lush green grass. Nowhere I had ever been before.

  I was too struck by the beauty of it at first to realise that going to sleep in a bed and waking up on the floor of a forest was a little odd. But as I watched the trees gently swaying in the breeze, I remembered lying on my bed, not meaning to but drifting to sleep anyway. And come to think of it, I didn't have broken sleep like I normally do.

  That was it. Panic slowly began to set in. What had happened to me? Where was I? I looked down, and saw that I still wore my bedclothes – a pair of dark grey tracksuit bottoms and a lighter grey vest top. But I most certainly was not in my room.

  I looked around. I could see slight dirt paths winding through the trees, and as I focused more, I realised that I had never seen taller, healthier trees before. The sun, the grass, the trees, all of it was like a fairy tale, some idyllic world that shouldn't exist but apparently did. 

  I stood ever so slowly, looking around for any signs of life aside from the odd bird flitting through the trees. When I saw none, I frowned, and rubbed at my arms. I wasn't cold, but I just didn't know what else to do. I knew I had to do something, but what was beyond my reach. I didn't even know where I was. 

  A thought occurred to me, and my hand shot to my tracksuit bottom pockets. _Yes, my pocket knife! I always slept with it close, just in case I forgot to shut my window one night, and the yobs from the railway track would notice. At least I had some form of protection. The knife had been my uncle's, and I valued it dearly. And I also had the lighter, from when I put it in my pocket accidentally. Maybe if I was stranded for a while, I could use it to light a fire._

  I slowly started walking forward, realising that standing still all day wouldn't really help me at all. But I felt a lump in my throat, and I was afraid. Had I been kidnapped? Was this some kind of joke? If it was, then the prankster wouldn't be among the living when I found him/her. 

"Mum? Dad?" I called. "Jack?" Then, clutching at straws; "_Danny_?" Danny doesn't talk, so I was really being a bit of an idiot in calling his name. But I was getting hysterical. I stamped my foot, and I was lucky that the ground seemed to be void of stones, because had it had a few pebbles here and there, I probably would have had to hop on one foot, because my feet were actually bare.

  I felt like crying. My ribs on my left side still really hurt, and lifting up my vest, I could see the bruise was large and a dark colour, the edges tinged yellow. The pain in my hip had intensified, now in both hips and running down the backs of my thighs. Now I was lost in some strange forest, all alone, barefoot, armed with a pocket knife, a lighter and my sharp wit (ha ha). Where was everybody?

"If this is some kind of joke!" I yelled, looking around. No one answered. But a noise seemed to softly fill the air, starting off quiet but growing to a low hum. The trees rustled restlessly, and the noise seemed to be like a low murmur, a whisper. I didn't like it. If my calculations were correct, the noise was coming from the trees. As though they were talking. Letting a small gasp escape my lips, I reached into my pocket and drew out my knife. I opened it to the sharpest blade, and held it in front of me, fearful of the beautiful trees, of the forest which surrounded me on all sides. All the while, I wondered where my parents where, where Jack was, Danny, Tommy, Penny, Kimmy, Rob – hell, even Leela. 

  I scanned my surroundings. Trees on all sides, various paths running here and there. I realised that standing still all day wasn't really a good idea, as much as I wanted to. I may not have been particularly smart when it came to the whole 'stranded in a strange place' thing, but I knew that it was important to locate a stream, and possibly a house or something. 

  So, with reluctance making me move slower than I probably should be, I moved forward, clutching at my knife and keeping my eyes on my surroundings. I chose the path that was directly ahead of me, and walked carefully, checking for stones that might injure my feet. And I was silently cursing everything. My family, this place, my life, me. I was NOT in a good mood. Not at all.

  After about half an hour of walking – or so my watch said, it actually felt longer than that – I decided that I was getting nowhere. My feet were gaining blisters, I was getting sweaty under all the heat, and a dull thumping had begun in my temples, signalling the start of a grand headache. I could feel my heart beating in my throat, and I had that distant feeling that you get when you're overworked, worried, and completely unhappy. 

  Deciding I needed water and fast, I hobbled carefully over to a tree, realising that I could probably see more from a height. I slipped the red knife between my teeth and grabbed a hold of the branches, silently praying that the weird trees wouldn't be annoyed with me. I slowly pulled myself up, twisting in ways that made me feel proud of myself; until I finally decided I was high enough. From there, I perched on a sturdy branch and gently brushed the leaves aside. So far, the tree wasn't meaning any harm to me, but I was wary all the same. 

  From my vantage point, I could see more and more woodland. It seemed to go on forever. But from where I was, it seemed that to the northwest of me, there was a slight glimmer of sun hitting water. Excited, I struggled to get out from the tree, and as I hit the ground, I decided to try to stay alive by removing the knife from my mouth and saying to the tree, "Thank you." 

  Slightly embarrassed at thanking a tree, I sprinted towards the water, no longer worried about pebbles but only about dehydration. I ran like I'd never run before, with my legs pumping like pistons, my breath ragged, my arms moving in motion, my right hand still clutching my beloved knife. I was beginning to get quite pleased with myself at how I was running along without tiring or without fear of pain, when I rounded a corner into a clearing and crashed into something solid. Whatever it was, it gave a startled cry, and it and I hit the floor, me a few feet away. 

  By the time I gathered my senses, I had the knife in a grip, and I whirled to point it at whatever was now standing above me – pointing a bow and arrow at my face.

  I was stunned to say the least, but I'd managed to get my knife past the attacker's face and pressed against his neck. As I inspected his face, he seemed surprised, maybe respectful. Me, I was just drooling.

  He had long blond hair, like spun gold, and it reflected the sunlight like a halo. I like long hair, always have done. His skin was lightly tanned, his body slim but well built and sturdy – I knew that because I was still seeing stars from running into him. Or maybe it was just my hormones. 

  His eyes were the real attention-grabber though. The scariest shocking blue I had ever seen. I remembered Ali G saying to Gail Porter, "I like your eyes…can I touch them?" and I instantly wanted to say that to this guy. But then, there are certain things you don't say to someone who has a weapon thrust in your face – and I'm not talking about a part of his anatomy.

  He wore a really weird outfit, and the first thing I thought of was Robin Hood. It was an outfit of greens and browns – a kind of tunic over leggings, with a belt housing some pretty mean daggers, a cloak fastened with a silver leaf brooch and a quiver of arrows on his back. _He looks like an Elf_, I thought to myself with a mental giggle.

"_Ya naa lle? Mankoi naa lle sinome?" He demanded._

  I raised an eyebrow. "Come again?" I said, trying not to think of 'come' in a dirty way. What can I say? There are two sides of me – the Jack side, and the Tommy side. The only language I knew aside from English was Spanish, so I couldn't really tell what this honey was saying.

  He studied me for a few moments, then said, "You speak the common tongue?"

"Looks like it," I replied, my knife still at his throat. 

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Wait just a second," I said with more bravado than I felt. I was pretty pissed, gathering by the pains from Hastings, the new pains from slamming into this babe, and the pain in my head. Oh, and did I mention I was lost? "You expect me to answer all of these questions when you have an arrow pointed at me?"

"You too have a weapon pointed at me," he said, looking annoyed. 

"One good turn deserves another," I said. He seemed to understand, and as he pulled away, I did too. But I didn't put my knife away. I kept it with me.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" He asked, looking at me suspiciously.

"My name is Carrie," I replied. "I, uh, don't actually know where I am." I eyed his strange attire. "I think I may have been kidnapped or something, since I definitely wasn't here before I went to sleep."

  He blinked. "You were captured?"

"I must have been. Unless my family are being really cruel," I cast a glare around the forest just in case they were. Then I wondered if this guy had been hired by them as some kind of trick. "And you? Who are you? And where exactly am I?"

"You are at the borders of Rivendell, in the Trollshaws" he replied, looking puzzled. "I am Legolas Greenleaf."

  I stared. Oh, this was definitely a trick. And a really nasty one too. Lord of the Rings. My eyes welled up slightly as I thought of Mark, but I pushed the thoughts and my tears away impatiently. I didn't know who was behind it, or why they would do it, but this was a very mean trick. Mark – even though I hadn't known him well – had been a good friend, and his death was a very tender spot for me. This Lord of the Rings piss-take was beginning to bring about the Carrie that liked to set things on fire. And I did, after all, have my little black Bic in my pocket. 

"Oh, sure you are. And I suppose you're an Elf?" I crossed my arms angrily.

"Yes, I am," 'Legolas' said, looking puzzled. "You are mortal?"

"Yes, I am," I mimicked. "Who put you up to this? What kind of filthy joke is this?"

"What are you talking about? What joke?" 

  I had to admit, he was a good actor. He looked genuinely confused. Annoyed, I flicked my eyes to his ears. Pointed ears. _Probably latex_, I thought darkly. I leapt forward and tugged. 

"_Aiya_!" He cried, and took a step backwards, as did I. I was starting to shake. His ear hadn't come off. It had stayed firm. It was his ear. He was…an Elf. This was the Trollshaws. I was…in Lord of the Rings. Now I really did cry. 

"_Arwen en amin_?"

  As I hung my head and cried, I felt something wrap around my shoulders. As my hand came up, I realised it was his cloak. For some reason, this made me cry harder. 

"Please, do not cry. _Uuma dela_. It is okay, do not worry."

  His voice was soothing, and soon my sobbing broke down to weeping, then to sniffles. 

"What is wrong?"

  Not wanting to look at Legolas, I wondered what to say. I was afraid to tell him that he was meant to be just a book character. I was also afraid to tell him that I was from another world, but I realised that in that I had little choice.

"I'm lost," I sniffed. "I went to sleep last night in bed and I woke up here. I'm not supposed to be here! I don't know why I'm here! And…" I frowned. "I think I'm in another world. There aren't Elves or Rivendell in my world."

  I could feel his surprise, but he said nothing. In my mind, I mentally made note that he must be on his way to the council of Elrond, about the One Ring. So that meant the Fellowship had not yet been grouped.

"Do you know how to get home?" Legolas asked.

  I shook my head. "I don't even know how I got here! I have no idea…" I almost started to cry again, but I clenched my jaw and forced the lump out of my throat. 

"I think you should come with me to Rivendell," Legolas said finally, rubbing my back in a circular motion. "I should think that Elrond Half-Elven or Mithrandir will know what to do." I recognised Mithrandir – Gandalf. Maybe Gandalf would know. But at the moment, I was too busy sitting in self-pity and wondering why Legolas was so gorgeous. 

  He whistled, and a beautiful grey horse charged into the clearing, its body and mane gleaming in a way that made me feel self-conscious – a horse had better hair than me. Not to mention Legolas – he had better hair than the both of us. That was just plain embarrassing. 

  Legolas pulled me to my feet and helped me onto the horse. Then he jumped on behind me, and nudged it gently in its side. As it took off, I had a hard time hanging on, since it was kind of bareback. No saddle. Luckily, Legolas was holding on pretty tight, so I wasn't going to plummet to either a horrible death or just sheer humiliation. 

  We rode off together to the House of Elrond, and the start of my journey. 


	4. Surprises At Rivendell

We were both silent throughout the journey, and I didn't really mind that much. I was turning all of this over in my head, searching for possible reasons why I was here. There were so many questions in my mind. _Did my parents know I was missing? Was time passing differently in my world to Middle Earth? How can I be in a story book? _

  But my main question was: _how did I get here_? Well, the only answer I'd found to that was – HOW THE FUCK SHOULD I KNOW??!

  Well, that was the answer I came up with most of the time when it came to that question. But then, as we neared the House of Elrond, a thought struck me. I'd wished upon a shooting star. But surely that was some corny plot used in films and books (A/N: *Looks down at keyboard, ashamed*)? And what I'd actually wished for was a reason to live. Surely picking me up and dropping me in Middle Earth wasn't a reason to live – especially if the War of the Ring was slowly building up to a crescendo! 

  I shook my head slightly. Surely that wish couldn't have caused this? Maybe I was dreaming. Okay, maybe not. The pain in my hips, my ribs, my head, my feet – everywhere – was a little to real for it to be a dream. I was really in Middle Earth. How, I could not say. Why, I couldn't say that either. But I was, and I was on my way to Rivendell with Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. And in Rivendell was one Frodo Baggins, with the One Ring on a chain around his neck. 

  Legolas steered the horse inside an archway in a beautiful wall, then stopped it. He hopped off, giving me a hand and helping me down. The House of Elrond was beautiful. Nestled into mountains, surrounded by a river with a ford, made to look beautiful – in my world, people didn't seem to care much about beauty, but of quantity and price. I admired the Elves instantly for their taste and their style. 

"Come, _arwenamin_. We must find Lord Elrond and Mithrandir," Legolas said. I nodded, and he took my hand and led me through the throng of Elves who were having fun in the gardens. I couldn't help but blush as he held my hand – not many people do that. Many stared at me in confusion – I guessed it was because of my clothing and bare feet. Or maybe they were jealous because I was with Legolas. Who knows? I just wanted some answers, and I was hoping against hope that Gandalf or Elrond could give them to me.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Legolas took me straight to Elrond's quarters, where he and a wizened old man were in a conversation. Elrond was a dark-haired Elf, with stunning blue eyes and a kindly yet almost warning face. Gandalf wore his grey robes, his long hair and beard grey/white, his hat on a nearby table. He held a gnarled staff in his hand. Both turned to give us questioning looks as we entered.

"Lord Elrond, Mithrandir, I found this girl in the Trollshaws at the borders. She is lost," Legolas said.

"I'm not a girl!" I said before I could help myself. "I'm twenty-two, thank you very much!" Gandalf hid a smile.

"Lost? What is your name, where do you come from?" Elrond asked. I figured that Elves loved those questions.

"My name is Carrie," I said. "I'm pretty sure I come from another world, because in my world Elves and Rivendell don't exist."

  Elrond looked stunned, Gandalf just looked interested. 

"Then how did you get here?" Elrond asked.

"I don't really know," I confessed. "I fell asleep last night, and woke up in the forest."

  Elrond frowned. "How very odd that…well, a young man appeared the same way not so long ago. Although, of course, he fell through the roof of the music house."

  I felt my heart flutter with worry and wonder. Even more so when Gandalf looked worried. I decided that maybe taking the plunge would be appropriate. "Look, I need to tell you something…I…I know what is going to happen, I…I know what is happening, what will happen with the War of the Ring." Legolas, Elrond and Gandalf looked at me sharply. I was glad I hadn't told them they were book characters.

"What do you know of the One Ring?" Gandalf asked.

"I…I can't really say how I know of it," I lied. "I just do. But…I know Sauron had it forged to control all the other Rings." I took a breath, and recited,

"Three rings for the Elven-lords under the sky

Seven for the Dwarf-kings in their halls of stone

Nine for the mortal men doomed to die

One for the dark lord on his throne

In the Land of Mordor where the shadows lie

One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them

One ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them."

  Now they just looked confused.

"And Isildur had the Ring, but didn't destroy it," I continued. "He died, and Gollum got it. Then Bilbo Baggins found it…"

"I wish to know how you know all of this," Elrond said sharply.

"I don't know," I said, and I sounded pretty convincing. "I just do."

"A Seer?" Legolas asked. I shrugged. My headache was growing. 

"Perhaps we should part for now, and continue this at the council tomorrow?" Gandalf suggested. Elrond nodded wearily, rubbing his temples. I frowned, as Gandalf ushered me and Legolas out, following close behind with his pointed hat. "Legolas, would you mind if I spoke to Carrie alone?" Legolas cast a glance at me, but nodded, and walked away. Gandalf was silent for a moment, and started walking. I matched his strides, walking beside him. "Your case is very curious, Carrie. It has only happened once before in very recent times, as Elrond said, under mysterious circumstances. It is not common for young mortal men to crash through the ceiling wearing odd clothing. Anyhow, it is obvious that you have a part to play in all of this, a part that was so important that you were dredged out of your world to participate.  And this young man, too, perhaps. Now, I know you were lying when you said that you did not know how you obtained the knowledge of the Ring. How do you know?"

  I flinched. I should have known I could never fool Gandalf. "In…in my world, Lord of the Rings is just a book…all of you, you're all characters in a book. I read the book…"

  Gandalf said nothing, placing his hat on his head. Then he said, "So you know what our fates are?"

"Not completely," I confessed. "I only read two parts of a trilogy; I never read the third book. I didn't get round to it."

  Gandalf nodded. "Listen to me, Carrie. I forbid you to speak of anyone's fates to them, not even me, unless I tell you to do so. A simple word of warning could change the course of the future. Your knowledge may prove invaluable later on, but until I request it, I would now allow for you to act as a fortune teller, do you understand?"

  I nodded, understanding. "Even the smallest person can change the course of the future." 

  He gave me a strange look, and said, "Now, what about your shift through worlds?"

"I can't really explain that," I said. "I fell asleep in my room, and when I woke up, I was in the Trollshaws. But…I remember, before I went to sleep, I wished on a shooting star. That was the only thing out of the ordinary for me. I wished for…for a reason to live."

  Gandalf raised an eyebrow.

"Do you think _that_ could have been what did it?"

"It is possible."

"But if so, why Middle Earth?"

"That, my dear, cannot be explained," Gandalf said. "I suspect that there is a reason, and in time, it shall be known. But until then, you must abide by my will."

  I nodded. "I promise, Gandalf." 

"Now," Gandalf said, "I have some business to attend to. Good day, Carrie."

  I watched him move on, and my despair was growing. No one understood what was happening, only that I had a 'fate', something tying me to the Ring. Yay. Watch me do a jig! Oh, enough sarcasm already. I was feeling pretty much crapped on. I had no idea what was going on, and my only hopes were twice as clueless as I was. 

  As I walked around, I considered my options. I could kill myself, and put myself out of my misery. I could stay and find out what happens, or I could run back to the Trollshaws and wait around for nothing in particular. None of them really appealed to me, but out of all of them, staying in Rivendell seemed my best bet.

  I managed to stop myself before I almost slammed into a young she-Elf. She turned to glance at me, and I realised that she was every inch an Elf, from the perfect pixie nose to enchanting sapphire-blue eyes. Her long, thick dark hair cascaded in waves down the back of her white gown.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, embarrassed and humbled by her beauty.

  She smiled. "Do not be, it is perfectly all right." She glanced at my clothing. "Where are you from? I have not seen your type before."

  Thinking of an excuse, I said, "I'm mortal, I'm just dressed a little strangely. I don't really know what to do…"

  She smiled again. "My name is Arwen."

  I blinked. _Arwen, the Evenstar? Elrond's daughter? "I'm Carrie," I replied, feeling more humbled than before._

"We should get you some new clothing," she said, and beckoned me on. I followed her, and on the way, we spoke of family and friends. Most of what I spoke was true, and though Arwen thought it strange, she listened and believed. 

  She led me to a room, where she had me bathed and my injuries tended to. I did feel much better once I was clean, and temporarily, I forgot my troubles, in a bath of soothing water and a goblet of water to quench my growing thirst. I would eat at the feast that night. 

  I begged and begged, and eventually Arwen agreed, to wear a tunic and leggings, not a gown. I hate dresses. 

  Arwen picked a tunic that was a rich purple in colour with gold embroidery on, a pair of black leggings, and knee-high boots. I still wore my silver cross, my tiger eye necklace (a chunk of tiger eye in a cage hanging from a, oddly enough, leather shoe lace – the old black cord snapped when Jessie tugged on it) and my weird one with four cylindrical beads on a black cord. My hair was brushed to a shine, then placed in a half ponytail, except the ponytail was actually a braid. I looked more like a girl than normal, but at least I wasn't wearing a dress. Arwen even gave me a pouch to hook onto my belt to hold my knife and my Bic. 

  I thanked her, and she smiled and said she had to meet someone. It was getting late now, and the night sky proved it. I left Arwen to her devices and decided to explore Rivendell's gardens a bit. 

  The moon was full and riding high in the sky, making me briefly wonder if werewolves existed in Middle Earth. Well, why not? Elves did. Thinking of Elves made me think of Legolas again, in all his splendour. It never hurt to dream, just so long as I distinguished dream from reality. Firstly, mortals and Elves didn't mix – the term 'mortal' speaking for itself. One died whilst the other lived on. One aged whilst the other stayed forever young. And why would an Elf ever like any mortal in that way, let alone _me_?

  I shook my head. Maybe running into Legolas concussed me more than I thought. Why was I even thinking about love and boys? That wasn't the Carrie I was used to. I didn't like shifting between love and denial, it was too confusing, especially with everything else happening. 

  I sat down by the gently trickling stream in the gardens and leaned over to stare at my reflection. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I thought I looked older than I had done. Like I was 32, not 22. Not much difference maybe, but I looked older, more mature somehow. More womanly. 

"_Arwenamin_?" 

  I turned, startled. It took me a moment to remember that Elves were silent at moving. 

"Hello, Legolas," I said, not really sure what else to say – especially when faced with an Elf who was dressed up in a silvery tunic. He looked damn fine.

"You are no longer cold or upset?" He asked.

  I laughed. "Well, cold, definitely not – and I fit in now. Upset…well, for now I'm trying to forget, but I'm still pretty upset. My family might be worried sick over me." Then I added, "Though that probably wouldn't happen."

  Legolas sat beside me. "Why would they not worry about you?"

  I suddenly became very interested in the blades of grass in front of me. "Well, firstly, they prefer my sister to me. Secondly…you know, I don't think there is a second."

  Legolas was silent for a moment. "Although I am next in line for the throne of Northern Mirkwood, my father has always preferred my brother, Corenian." 

  I nodded sadly. "'Tis always a trouble when you're second best." I glanced at the moon suddenly and gave a small smile. "I'll bet my brother Tommy is missing me though. And his wife, Kimberly. Penny…well, she probably just misses her babysitter…" I felt annoyed suddenly. "You know what? I'll probably like it here in Middle Earth. Maybe here I'll actually be appreciated."

  Legolas held my hand, and this time I did not blush. Instead, I squeezed it, and said, "Perhaps we should go in for the feast?" He nodded, and together we walked towards the main hall for the feast, though, in the distance, I saw Arwen standing close to a man near the stream, looking very much in love.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The feast put faces to the names of the characters in the book. As I sat there, I met Boromir, Aragorn (who was actually the man whom I had seen Arwen with. A mortal no less, which furthered my internal battle of priorities when it came to the Prince of Mirkwood), Gimli, Gloín, Merry, Pippin, Frodo and Sam. Although, at least, I didn't actually meet all of them, more overheard their names in conversation. I stayed strictly with Gandalf, Elrond, Arwen and Legolas. Although, I couldn't have shaken Legolas off if I wanted to – he was like a persistent shadow that defied the dark. I didn't really mind – it was nice to have someone to talk to, especially since Berry and Thalia were in another world.

  Everyone seemed curious as to who I was, but Elrond just said I was a guest from Edoras. A cunning lie for an Elf.

"Are you enjoying yourself, _arwenamin?" Legolas asked. _

"Yeah, actually, I am," I said with a grin. "This is the least depressed I've felt in a long time. I'm actually having fun."

  During the feast, Boromir asked me to dance. Slightly confused, I accepted – though I warned him I didn't know how to dance. He said that he didn't either, so we would just go with the motions. It was actually very fun, and I found it hard to see Boromir as the one who tried to take the Ring from Frodo. And the one who perished…

  I realised that Boromir, were he in my world, would be a perfect choice for a husband if I ever were to choose. Sure, he was tempted by power, but who wasn't? I mean, I had dreams of setting people on fire just because I didn't _like them.  _

  After Boromir, two other Elves asked me to dance, before I was tapped on the shoulder and a familiar voice said, "_Nauva lle salka yassen amin_? Will you dance with me?" Dance with Legolas?

"I will, but I couldn't dance to save my life," I said. I remembered dancing with Penny once, and whilst she looked beautiful as she swayed around, I wind-milled my arms like a prat. Legolas chuckled, and led me to the dance floor. We didn't dance to one song, but three in a row! The sneak managed to keep me going through three different songs, much to my amazement. Arwen thought it very funny that he be so sly – even more funny that I fell for it. 

  By the time the feast was over, I was laughing and exhausted. My head spun from the wine, and by now I had danced with Boromir three times, about five different Elves, Merry and Pippin (amazingly) and Legolas had snared me for about six dances!

  And three-quarters of the way through the feast, as I was dancing quite brazenly with Boromir once more, I bumped into another dancing couple. I stumbled slightly, laughing nonetheless. "Sorry!" I said, and turned to face my victim. My eyes went wide. So did his.

"_Tommy_?!"


	5. Tommy, Tarot, And Pain

A/N: Here's the fourth chapter! I understand that the plot is probably getting corny, but trust me, it's all a sugar coating! IT ISN'T GOING TO LAST! Thanks to those who reviewed, and by the way, why should Mary Sues be shot? If you don't like, don't read! Please R&R. Enjoy the chappie

          ~*~ Andariel666 ~*~

When I find all of the reasons

Maybe I'll find another way

Find another day

With all the changing seasons of my life

Maybe I'll get it right next time

An' now that you've been broken down

Got your head out of the clouds

You're back down on the ground

And you don't talk so loud

And you don't walk so proud anymore

And what for

 - Guns N' Roses, Estranged

My sharp exclamation at seeing Tommy had led to Elrond moving me, Tommy, himself and Gandalf to his private quarters once more. We had to hurry to avoid the suspicious glances, so I had no time to greet him. However, once in Elrond's quarters, I flung my arms around my brother's neck.

"Oh, Tommy! What on _earth _are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said simply, grinning. I studied his face. Amazingly, unlike me, he was untouched by the mature-like ageing that my face had endured. He looked his normal thirty-something self.

"I'm guessing you're the one who fell through the music room roof," I said, crossing my arms and smirking.

  He suddenly pouted, like a child. "I hurt my lumbar." I laughed. It was normally me saying that. 

"What, precisely, is going on?" Elrond asked.

"This is my brother/sister," we both said at the same time. We smiled sheepishly.

"Well, this does put an interesting spin to things," Gandalf said, studying us. "A brother, who falls through the roof at Rivendell, and a sister who appears out of nowhere in the Trollshaws, also near Rivendell. How long would you say you were gone, Carrie?"

  I shrugged, thinking. "I don't really know – I was either sleeping or unconscious. I'd say a night."

"Then it is impossible," Gandalf said, "That the two of you passed into this world at the same time. You see, Tommy has been here for at least a week."

  My jaw dropped. "But that's _impossible_! Because he was in my house the night before I woke up in the Trollshaws."

"It would be very rare that two shifts could occur in the same place," Elrond said, eyeing them both. "And if they did, who caused them, and why? And why would you have been unconscious…" he drifted into thought.

"This is a very curious situation," Gandalf said. "But if I were to guess, I would say that Tommy was delivered to us straight away, whilst Carrie was trapped in whatever rift it was until it spat her out as appropriate."

"Lovely," I said. Gandalf's face betrayed nothing, but my years of intuition told me that he was hiding something. But I said nothing – I had learned over the years that trying to force people the reveal secrets was folly – it would not work and only make them more hostile.

"So it got the both of us?" Tommy said, scratching his head. My eyes widened. He was right.

"There were _three_ people in the house! There was me, Tommy, and _Jack! Oh lord, where's Jack? Oh no oh no oh no…"_

"Calm yourself, child," Elrond said. "Who is Jack?"

"Our brother," I whined. "He was the only other person in the house. He's probably here too! Oh, where could he _be?"_

"Calm yourself, Carolina," Tommy said sternly; giving my back a half rub, half thump. I pitched forward slightly.

"If he indeed came through the rift with you, then he was most likely also deposited near the Rivendell area," Gandalf said.

"I shall send scouts out to scan the surrounding area, particularly the Trollshaws," Elrond said.

"Thank you," I said sadly.

  There was a silence at first.

"We shall speak tomorrow morn at the Council," Elrond said eventually. "You shall both be there." _Be there or be square_, I thought, and imagining Elrond saying that brought me close to a giggling fit. Hysterical giggling. Sure, Jack was a buttmunch a lot of the time, but I still loved him and wanted him close. He was missing, wondering what the hell was going on. He probably didn't have a pocket knife or a lighter in his pocket. Tommy and I nodded, and left Gandalf and Elrond to speak together.

"What happened to you?" Tommy asked me.

"I went to sleep last night, and woke up in the Trollshaws! You know, the forest? Of course, I didn't know that then. But then Legolas found me…"

"Legolas? The Prince of Mirkwood?"

"The one and only. Anyway, after a quick scuffle, he brought me here to Rivendell to see Elrond and Gandalf, thought maybe they could help." I shrugged, then blushed as I said, "I thought that maybe my wishing upon a star somehow brought us here."

  Tommy burst out laughing. "You w-wished upon a s-_star_? And thought it landed us i-in _Middle Earth_?" He laughed harder.

"I'd like to see you come up with better," I frowned.

"I can," he said simply. "It was Saruman."

  I almost completely stopped walking. I had forgotten the White Wizard's part in this. He was probably powerful enough to drag through several people from another world, though why, how, and when were all mysteries that were working towards a migraine.  

"Why would Saruman snatch us from our world?"

  Tommy shrugged. "Dunno. But my guess is that we're to play a part in the War of the Ring." He rubbed his hands together. "I can't wait!" I could almost see his eagerness at swinging around a sword and killing enemy in reality, not virtual reality.

"What about Kimberly?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah, we had a fight about money, neither of us will be missing the other for a while."

"Reiss?"

"Now him, I will miss," Tommy said, looking forlorn. "But there ain't much I can do, Carrie. I'd hoped Gandalf could take me back, but apparently he's just as stumped as me. Then you show up, and now Jack's supposedly here too…I can't help but feel that some ulterior figure is dealing us a deck of cards through dimensions, you know? And I think that this wasn't coincidence. You read the books, didn't you?"

  I grasped his premature plan. "You think we should act as the knowing fools and tell all." One look from him told me I'd guessed right. "I've already told Gandalf about the books, that I know the outcomes. He's forbidden me to say anything unless he permits it. But come _on_! Why would Saruman bring us here to help the Fellowship? He's on Sauron's side, not Gandalf's."

"Maybe Gandalf did it."

  I blinked. "Maybe. Likely, even. But either he's a brilliant actor or he was genuinely confused that we're here. I have to admit, I lean towards the latter."

"So, Sherlock, what's your conclusion?" Tommy asked, crossing his arms. We'd been walking through the gardens, the moonlight filtering down on our faces.

"I just don't know," I said. "As incredibly cheesy as it sounds, I'd have to stick to the shooting star. None of this adds up, and I'm not sure I like it."

  Tommy turned to me, seeming to study my face. "You look older, sis'."

"I feel it," I admitted. It was with this admission that we decided to say our goodnights and part. I had been given a nice room with a comfortable bed – I had been shown my room previously in the day. But at the moment I really wasn't tired. Tommy's appearance, Jack's absence and my pain, confusion and new-found importance to the battle of Middle Earth had exhausted me so much I couldn't sleep, if that makes sense. I had felt this way many times before, I have to admit. This wasn't a new feeling.

  And it was in that moment that I conceived a longing for a certain part of my life that wasn't pulled through the shift with me. I jogged to the stall of an Elf who sold art materials, paints, different canvases and papers and the like. I asked the price of some extra-thick pieces of plain parchment and some paints, some of the purple silk-like material and sewing utensils, and the Elf kindly said that I should have it free. Touched, I promised I would do a favour for him in return some day. I was actually quite surprised to see an Elf on the stall at night. I told him so, and he replied that he felt he was needed. 

  I took my items back to my room, and once there, I shaped the thick parchment into 78 card-shaped rectangles. Once that was done, I used the paints to illustrate them, doing neat designs and using my artistic talents to their full extents. As the paint dried, I sewed a drawstring pouch out of the material. When I was done, I had a full deck of my own personalised tarot cards. 

  As I studied my creations of beauty, I thought of the deck I had back in my world – I had bought it, not made it. But I had done everything in my power to personalise it – went to college with it in my duffel bag, carried it in my pocket, slept with it under my pillow…

  None of that was needed with this deck because upon creating it, my fibre was in it. Every last inch of me was displayed in the illustrations and the intuition you received from the separate cards.

 And it was staring at the cards that I remembered a reading I had done for myself. I had used a modern, possibly wrong spread for the cards, with five to make a cross, and one to put off to the side. It was normally a spread to ask a question, but I preferred to just deal and see what it said. One dealing came back to me then, as I stared at my new deck. 

  I had turned over the past card and received the Four of Swords reversed, suggesting illness, exile and/or confinement. Gloomy thoughts combined with depressive attitudes and nervous exhaustion enforcing rest.

  I had turned over the obstacles card and received the Death card, normally meaning a transformation that seems wrong but is a blessing in disguise. A harsh fate which does not consider personal feelings, but generally a big change in life. 

  I turned over the card for influences working in my favour, and received the Ace of Wands, suggesting beginnings, most likely of a new business or important friendship.

  I had turned over the near future card and received the Knight of Cups. A faithful lover or good friend, passionate and amiable. Brings offers and opportunities and is normally poetic and graceful.

  I turned over the long-term card and received the Empress reversed, meaning over protective, tyranny, emotional blackmail, poverty, and perhaps problems in pregnancy. 

  I lastly turned over the general outcome card, and I received the Tower card, meaning the removal of an outworn sense of values, a shock that is a blessing in disguise, freedom from old possibly self-imposed restrictions, a sudden inevitable change but nothing to be feared because I would emerge a stronger person.

  It had been an odd set, but now some of it rang in my head. The past card had always been true. But then, dealing in tarot, my past card always came out right on the money. The Death card mentioned a large, harsh change that may be a blessing in disguise. That ran parallel with mine and Tommy's views of why we were here – to help Middle Earth. A blessing in disguise as a misled tragedy. The influences mentioned a new friend, and I so far had met the whole Fellowship – who knew which one would be my friend? Perhaps Legolas.

  The near future mentioned again a good friend, or possibly a lover. The long-term future mentioned a lot of hard times, and I suspected that people would be using my empathy against me. Almost everyone does anyway. What would be new about that? The Tower card just seemed blatantly obvious – I'd come out of my hardships a new woman.

  I quickly wrote all this down for further reference. I felt sure I'd stumbled onto something big. But it was considering this that I realised that maybe fate had had this mapped out. Me, Tommy, and most likely Jack as well were all meant to do something in Middle Earth, and I couldn't figure out what.

  That did it. My exhaustion, pain and unhappiness broke me down at that point. The tears came fast and hard, the lump in my throat expanding and contracting, my stomach feeling as though coils of live cables were twisted about in there. I had felt this despair a few times before – where I was in a situation I couldn't handle. I like to be in control, that's just the way I am. The idea that I was slipping away not only terrified me but depressed me, wrapped me in a thick black cloak and blocked the daylight. Slumping to the floor, I knew there was only one thing I knew of that could relieve my pain.

  Carefully, I withdrew the pocket knife from the pouch at my hip and stared at it. I had one been such a proud person – that was in the short break between the depression at the start of my life and where I was now. Sure, I could be happy, but could anything but the true answer to your problem erase it completely? I don't think so. No matter what happiness I had, it wasn't the answer to my problems, and that meant I was screwed. 

  I was half the woman I used to be, in some terms. Maybe that's a little exaggerated, but pretty much true.

  I stared at the knife. I'd never actually done anything to myself with this knife. Only razor blades, drawing them sideways across my skin, or ramming safety pins through my palms and doing them up just for the morbid fascination of looking at them. But there was nothing else in this room that would do – I could only rely on my uncle's old knife. I opened the blade up to the sharpest one, the one I'd used to protect myself in the Trollshaws. I stared at my reflection in the blade. The mature face that had only recently belonged to me stared out. The line between my eyebrows was more pronounced, the slightly mean twist in the corners of the mouth more prominent. I looked like a hardened old miser, and that in itself disturbed me. I rolled up my leggings on my left leg, and I viewed the scars that already littered my calf. They were different tones of pinks and whites, fading with time at different levels of depth, width, and time they were inflicted on my pale skin. I grabbed my old vest, on my bed and waiting for me, and placed it under my leg.

  With a resigned sniffle, I brought the blade down and rested it against my calf. I pressed it down, and drew the knife towards me. As I pulled the knife away from me, I was aware that I felt no pain, and no blood was present. I wondered if I had done it right. Just as I was lowering the knife again, a thin line of red appeared, then the blood began to ebb from the wound in a sinister fashion, running down my leg and onto the readily placed vest. I was shocked. The wound was quite deep, and the pain was coming along now, itching and growing more intense as the blood moved. Without thinking, I made a quick slice, not as deep as the first, but enough to breed pain and make more blood. I was about to do it once more, but then the exhaustion kicked in. I tied the vest around my leg, then wiped the knife blade on it as well, cleaning it completely of evidence. 

  In some ways, I felt I'd tainted my knife. That my darling uncle was staring down at me from heaven with horror and disgust. But in other ways, a part of me hoped that he'd understand that I was a desperate girl who had begged for help and not received it. Therefore, I was seeking help from myself – and I always knew that the most I would amount to was destruction and carnage. 

  I longed for Berry then. Sure, I had told mum and dad, and it was a big thing for a little while – but not in a good way. The attention they promised me, the only good outcome, was forgotten, and I was back to square one. I'd climbed up several ladders, only to be devoured by a snake and delivered back to square one. Berry understood me, knew the matters personally. She always talked me through it, and she was like my rock. A sister.

  But I was in Middle Earth, the place in the books on the shelf above Berry's bed. She couldn't help me now. I was as much a fictional character as Gandalf or Frodo or Legolas. Legolas…

  The Prince of Mirkwood had me in knots, I can tell you. His beautiful face enticed me, lured me, and brought out parts of me long forgotten. But like before, the immortality and the fact that I'm a freak and a loser worked as minuses to any possible relationship other than a casual friendship – we say hi in a corridor. That's it.

  I must have waited at least fifteen minutes before the blood flow stopped. Then I removed the sodden vest and placed it in the washroom in the sink, where I dunked it in a bucket of lukewarm water to try and remove at least some of the stains. I then moved on to use one of the washrags to clean the mess that was my leg. For there to only be two cuts there was an awful lot of blood, and the pain was not only a release but a distraction. But I felt tainted, disgusted at myself. In this fairytale land, I had gone back to being an SH. How many people can say they've done that? I had the opportunity to do great things, and instead I curled into a ball and sliced away at my leg like it was a topside of beef. 

  Once all the blood was removed, I carefully dried my leg, and used my now slightly tainted knife to slice through my trackie bottoms and made a bandage for my leg in case I bled in the night. In my mind, I made a mental note to claim that the reason my vest was bloody was because I'd hit my menstruation cycle, and that that's what my trackie bottoms were, uh, helping with. 

  I hauled my clothes off, climbing into an impossibly comfortable nightgown and I climbed into the amazing bed, after putting my new tarot cards in their pouch and under my pillow for safe-keeping, where I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.


	6. The Morning After

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed, the press has been great!

Youko Demon: Yeah, this is pretty much me with the exceptions of the name ;-). 

Lady Death: I'll try and write a lot more than I have been, but I've got so many stories floating around now it's hard to keep track sometimes!

Fernvigiel: I eat, sleep and breathe rock music, especially the oldtime rock like Guns N' Roses, Aerosmith, Queen, Dire Straits, etc. but there'll also be a lotta Creed popping up too! I like to find the meanings in the lyrics, and some of them match the story and chapter content, so, I'm glad you like!

Daisy Princess: I guess writing it is easier for me than most because I'm writing this as though Carrie is me, so I can associate with her more because I'm practically putting myself into words – something I don't do often, so I'm glad you and the others think I've done it well. Thanks, all, and here's the next chapter!

Every time that I look in the mirror

All these lines in my face gettin' clearer

The past is gone;

It went by like dusk to dawn

Isn't that the way?

Everybody's got their dues in life to pay

- Aerosmith, Dream On

When I woke up, the first thing I did was reach for my Samsung phone to call Berry, to try and exercise these strange feelings of desolation that swam in my hand. I reached further and further, hunting for my phone, until I eventually fell from the bed and hit the floor with a dull thud. I shook my head in confusion. Where was my dressing table?

It was then that my brain kicked in. I wasn't at home, where Berry's comforts were an arm's length away. I was in an entirely different world, and…fuck my leg hurt!

It was then that I remembered what I had done, and I felt like puking all over the floor. In many ways, I felt that I had defiled this world, my uncle's pocket knife, and also my soul. I'd never felt this bad self-harming before – even though I'd always felt quite bad afterwards. But now I didn't want to move from my place on the floor, huddled against the bed and probably looking like a maniac. The trackie bottom bandage around my leg felt slightly crusty, and I knew I had bled in the night. The stinging and throbbing in my leg was almost too much to bear. Should I have been happy? Maybe. I mean, after all, I now had Tommy with me to help. And eventually Jack, but that might not be such a good thing. And in this world, I could be a hero – something I'd never been before. I'd been a villain to many people who'd had the misfortune to encounter me, but I'd never really been a hero. Jack once told me I was too 'unstable' to be a hero. Maybe he was right. I mean, after all – I'd once just watched as my sister accidentally set my trousers on fire, and I just stared and thought, _wow, look at that, I'm on fire!_ Seriously.

There was a gentle knocking at the door, and I flew into almost instant panic. I threw my head back quickly, forgetting the bed was behind me. I then tried to get up whilst the little blue dickybirds flew around my head. "Um, yeah? I mean, yes?"

"It will soon be time for breakfast, _arwen en amin_," a male voice called through the door. "And straight after breakfast you shall be attending the Council of Elrond."

"Um, okay, thanks, I'll just get dressed!" I called, and was thankful when the Elf said its approval, and silence ensued. Thinking quickly, I darted into the washroom. It was going to be messy, sorting my leg, but I had to do it. So it was with the thought of Legolas's horrified expression at my wounded leg that I unwound the bandage. The leg didn't look as bad as I'd expected, which gave me hope. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad…well, I was fairly sure I was going to scar, anyway. I always scar easily – just take a look at my hands. 

I washed at my leg, being careful not to aggravate it. Then I disposed of my old tracksuit bottoms and the bloodied bandage, before turning to hunt out my clothes. I paused. I could see myself in a mirror, and I did not look pretty. Hair that made me look like Edward Scissorhands' stunt double, and my skin looked twice as pasty. I'd been disconcerted last night by my obvious aging – but now I looked older. It was obviously just my being weary that made me look like I was in my mid/late thirties, but it still shocked me nonetheless.

I hunted out a tunic and leggings, slinging them on at a speedy rate, before somehow managing to make sense of my hair with a comb. I practised walking for a couple of moments, until I could do it without wincing. Then I opened the door. 

A male Elf was outside, waiting. He smiled when he saw me, and I wondered if he was hiding shock at the fact that he was escorting a ghost to breakfast. I almost chuckled at the thought, but kept myself in check, linking my arm with his and starting to walk.

"There has been a change of plan, _arwen en amin_," he said softly. "I am to take you to Lord Elrond."

I nodded, confused and worried. Had he somehow found out about my nightly act? I couldn't stand the shame if he had. Not Tommy or Gandalf or Legolas or anyone could probably look at me in the same way again if they knew. But whilst all this swam around, building up to another fabulous migraine, I tried to remain outwardly normal, in case the Elf at my side grew suspicious – it was bad enough my complexion looked like Dracula's after a blood shortage.

By the time I reached Elrond's door, I suppose I was in a silent state of sheer hysteria – I barely noted when the Elf drew back and left me there. I was staring at the door and wondering what would happen to me and how painful it would be. I raised a fist and knocked on the door.

"Enter." And I did. My jaw dropped.

"_Jack?!_"

----------o0O0o----------

There he was. Standing right next to Tommy was Jack, looking slightly ill but not that bad at all – like his normal self. I felt relief swim through me – obviously, Elrond was oblivious to my SH habit and what was more, I had both my brothers safe.

"Carrie," Jack said with a slight smile. I almost had the urge to beat the shit out of him – you'd have thought he'd be more pleased to see me, or at least half grateful he was alive. Never look a gift horse in the mouth. Or…well, do you know those elib things, where you type in the adjectives and that and it creates a story? I did that once, and instead of never look a gift horse in the mouth, it came out, never look a smelly donkey in the bollocks. So, there was my advice to Jack. Maybe I _am_ crazy.

"He was found close the Ford," Elrond said. "He was close to being hypothermic."

"And I'm still none the wiser as to why I'm here," Jack said, sounding slightly bitter. Honestly, did he think we'd asked for this? To be stuck here? No, we didn't. We had every right to be annoyed ourselves. Well, I suppose the other two had more right than me, because if my suspicions were correct, it was my fault we were here anyway. 

"Join the club," Tommy muttered.

Gandalf spoke for the first time, seeming to just suddenly appear from nowhere. "I find it very suspicious that three of a family – who were all together at the time – should come here. I suspect that there is a reason for this, and I shall work not only on discovering this reason, but also discovering how to return you to whence we came." 

Like the dirty dogs we are, I thought, filling in the general attitude. Well, maybe that wasn't fair – maybe Gandalf wasn't thinking that. But I was.

"We're here because we can change it, aren't we?" Jack asked, actually brushing on intelligence (that's me being cruel, by the way). "Because we know what will happen here. Or at least, some of it."

Elrond raised an eyebrow, and I almost cursed. Elrond didn't know the Lord of the Rings was a book, and a cartoon adaptation that both Jack and Tommy had seen. "A family of seers?" The Elf asked.

I glanced to Gandalf. He was the one pulling the strings here, so he could dig us out of this mess.

"I do believe they are," Gandalf said thoughtfully. "But they have flashes…like a rogue candle that will blow out, then relight, only giving glimpses of the surroundings."

I gave Jack and Tommy significant looks – that just screamed 'shut the fuck up or else'. They did, thankfully. 

"Perhaps you should go down to breakfast," Elrond said. "You will have an hour before the council. You may go."

I led my brothers from the room, and after the door was shut behind us and we'd walked a few paces down the corridor, Jack said, "Would anyone kindly tell me what the _hell_ is going on?"

"We've been trying to figure that out ourselves," I hissed back, annoyed. He was dragging me down deeper, and I didn't need that.

"Our only conclusions is that there's foul play with either Saruman or Gandalf, or that Carrie's, um, wishing on a star brought us here," Tommy said, looking as though he were still amused at my presumption. Jack was apparently right behind him.

"Wishing on a star?" Jack snorted. "What is this, some hammy fairy tale?"

"No, it isn't," I replied. "It's Middle Earth. It's the War of the Ring. It may be a kind of fairy tale in our world, but here, it's real. I was rescued from the bloody Trollshaws by Legolas frickin' Greenleaf."

"I listened to Bilbo Baggins tell tales," Tommy added.

"And I was close to hypothermia," Jack said, sounding angry. "And I bet you're loving this, aren't you, Carrie? Always living in a dream world, now it's finally happened. Only you've dragged us with it. You have to be such an inconsiderate cow, don't you?"

"Shut it now, Jack," Tommy said warningly. "Just shut your mouth."

I stared at my brother in disbelief. Jack used to be my favourite. Now he was insulting me in a corridor of the House of Elrond, probably blaming me for everything. I badly wanted to cry right then, but I know I couldn't. If I did, I probably wouldn't be able to stop. So, instead, after gaining control over my breathing and finding my voice, I said, "You really think I have the utmost _urge_ to be a superhero, Jack? Well, I guess in some ways, I do. But not here. I don't want to be here, and neither does Tommy. We just are. And we have no choice. Yes, we want to snap and snarl and cry, but we won't, because not only will it not do anything for us, it's also _damn_ childish! Don't blame me if you can't handle this." I couldn't say any more, even though I wanted to. I decided to leave Tommy to deal with my ungrateful brother and I stalked off alone, ignoring Tommy's soft calls. By the time I reached the breakfast hall, not many were left there. I didn't let it deter me, however, and I merely sat in the most solitary part of the hall. I chose merely some bread and some fruit, and as I picked at it with the appetite of a sparrow, I reflected on Middle Earth. 

If you'd have asked me in my world if I'd have liked to go to Middle Earth, I'd have said, "Wow, totally, it would be so much better than the crummy, harsh-reality, really bad sitcom that is my life." But right now, I knew that I was naïve then. Maybe I hadn't aged just in features – maybe I had in mind as well. But then, you never know until you experience things, do you? Just like I used to watch girls getting all this fabulous attention from their parents, and I'd wished that I could have something like that too. But the times my parents actually made an effort, I pushed them away. Maybe I'd just gotten too used to the solitude, and I wanted nothing else. Either way, I'd changed from what I thought would be a perfect life (which was, in a way, just a fairy tale) to the harsh reality, and in many aspects, I ended up choosing the reality, no matter how harsh.

"_Arwenamin_?"

I blinked. Legolas was sitting opposite me, studying me with those amazing blue eyes. I instantly remembered how I'd felt when I was around him, how I felt that classic giggly-schoolgirl-eyeing-Leo-DiCaprio-posters feeling. Now, I wondered if it was like the rest of my life – the fantasy, whereas the reality was better, or at least, easier.

"How long were you there?" I asked with a slight smile.

"Not long," he replied. "You look pale. Are you well?"

I allowed my lips to curl sardonically. "Not bad, considering. They found my brother. You'd have thought it would be a happy occasion, but he's a heartless bastard who wouldn't be grateful if I saved his life from certain death."

Legolas looked slightly stunned at my choice of words, as though my language probably surprised him. "All is not well then?"

I laughed, and winced when it sounded more like I had the croup. "I'm stuck in an alien world, with a killer migraine, one absurdly crass brother, another absurdly rude and annoying brother and nothing but my twisted mind to keep me company. I just wish I knew what I was here for."

"Everyone has a reason," Legolas said gently, pushing some of my flyaway hair from its position of blocking my sight. "It will be apparent soon enough – surely Mithrandir will be able to help you eventually." Tentatively, he added, "Surely what lies ahead cannot be so bad?"

"I have been forbidden to share details," I said, "But know this – the world could be a lot better if Gandalf would just let me help. But I think he fears that I may mess up the course of time entirely – I don't want to do that, but I want to go home as soon as possible."

Legolas was silent, and I was struck once more by his beauty. His eyes were contemplating, his face serious. I almost thought I saw a disappointment in his eyes, but put it down to wishful thinking. "What is this world like that you speak of?"

"Maybe I'll tell you in full detail soon," I said gently. "I have a feeling I'll be seeing a lot more of you than you may think." And for once, I didn't mean that in a dirty way.


	7. The Council of Elrond

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed! Youko Demon: One small prob with that…I don't wear skirts or dresses! *shudders* that would mean acting like a girl! Lol, okay, okay, so I am one – but I tend to get mixed up once in a while ;-). Oh, and I read your story, Youko, 'twas good! I myself did something similar for Harry Potter, but when I was drunk on several different alcohols and thought that the blinking light on my phone was humorous. Enjoy the story all, and please R&R!

            ~*~ Andariel666 ~*~

I can't find the rhyme in all my reason

Lost sense of time and all seasons

Feel I've been beaten down

By the words of men who have no grounds

Can't sleep beneath the trees of wisdom

When your axe has cut the roots that feed them

Forked tongues in bitter mouths

Can drive a man to bleed from inside out

 - Creed, What If

  The Council of Elrond was basically a circle made up of the races of Middle Earth, sitting on chairs, with the sunlight beating down on them and making them all look all nice and pretty and…fairytale-like. Well, aside from me and my darling brothers. We no doubt just looked plain and boring and ordinary – not of Middle Earth.

  Tommy sat on one side of me, Jack on the other, almost like bodyguards. From where I sat, Elrond was to my left, Gandalf and Frodo opposite me diagonally, Legolas opposite me, Boromir on my right (though not my immediate right, Tommy was next to me on my right) and Aragorn was concealed by Jack and a few Elves on the left somewhere. I was the only woman present, which made me a tad uncomfortable.

  I glanced to Boromir. I suppose some strange part of me wanted reassurance, but at the same time, I was interested to see the book and cartoon acted out. Boromir caught my gaze and winked at me. Great. Now I was practically blushing. I turned my gaze to Legolas. The Elf had been watching as Lord Elrond conversed with Gandalf, but the moment my eyes fell on him, he seemed to notice, and turned his gaze to me. He gave me a slight smile, and I felt my stomach drop. That smile! I gave a slight one back and looked away before I made a fool of myself.

  Frodo was sitting on a chair, and the fact that his feet didn't reach the floor might have been humorous at another time. Plus, the sad, long-suffering look on his face made me cast my usual cattish attitude aside for the time being. I mean, I normally tend to poke fun, not always to be cruel, but also because I preferred to find laughter in a situation than doom – only people don't normally appreciate my humour. Aren't I so hard done by? Yeah, sure. Look at poor Frodo. Little does he know – or does he know it already? – he's about to embark on one of the most life changing journeys. Puts the whole adventure thing into perspective, at least. And it shows the strength of character – someone half my height (or at least, three fifths of my height) was going to do something I could probably never do. 

  Gandalf finally took his seat, and looked right at me. I frowned. Okay, so I'd been looking at him a moment before, so what. I wasn't looking at him with this kind of x-ray vision sight he was inflicting upon me.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction.," Elrond said, studying the Council. At his next words, the various races glanced among one another – Elves glaring at Dwarves and vice versa. "None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

  I turned my attention to the Hobbit. I knew this all too well, and that in itself scared me. The idea of having power of this kind of situation might be exhilarating to some, but not to me. I never did like being placed in positions of authority or knowledge, and this was technically the epitome of both. What made matters worse was that everyone at the council knew I was important in some way because I was the only female. If only Elrond had let Arwen come, then maybe I wouldn't be so singled-out. But then, she'd probably just distract Aragorn.

  Frodo hopped out of his chair slowly, with encouragement from Gandalf, and made his way towards the pedestal-type table at the centre of the circle, walking slowly as though he was either reluctant to let the Ring go, or was just plain saddened to the core. He placed it on the table.

  There was instant reaction in the Council. Not noisy, no. The Elves didn't give out girlish shrieks and faint, the Dwarves didn't roar, the Men didn't scream. There was only a few gasps, and lots of movement. Legolas's eyes widened momentarily before he looked at the Ring darkly. I had the feeling he wasn't tempted all that much. Boromir shifted in his seat, looking eager. Uh oh. Even Tommy and Jack shifted a little, but Jack looked more eager than Tommy – this worried me. I began to get depressed all over again. Did they do antidepressants in Middle Earth, I wonder?

  Of course, I wasn't exactly unaffected. But it wasn't temptation. At first, an odd whispering seemed to brush past me, like a wind, then a sharp pain filled my forehead behind my eyes, and as it spread down through my stomach to my thighs, I saw a glowing fiery eye, reds and blacks and oranges…I felt my fear peak, my heart speed up. I knew what this was. And the eye seemed to know that I knew. I'm not sure if I shook it off or if it left of its own accord, but I was startled when Boromir said, "So it is true." He looked on the very of having an O, and that forced me to bite my lip to stop from laughing. This was a serious situation, but look at the guy! 

  Someone said "The Doom of man," but I didn't know who, because the pain sliced through my head again. It was only a quick flash, but it was enough to diminish my urge to laugh. Just as I was fighting to calm myself, Boromir continued, "It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor." He stood up. _Here we go, I thought. "Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay – by the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it _against_ him!" Boromir had looked almost like a cross between a lawyer and a cheerleader, and that in itself was amusing. I turned my head to the left slightly, waited for Aragorn to kick in. Apparently Tommy and Jack were doing the same._

"You cannot wield it," Aragorn said, right on expectation. "None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

  Boromir turned to give Aragorn a dirty look that would've made me quite offended. But Aragorn (from what I could see past several heads) was still sitting, quite calm. 

"And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" Boromir sneered.

  I glanced straight ahead. 

"This is no mere Ranger," Legolas said, jumping up, anger clear on his beautiful face, ready to defend his friend. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

  A kind of baffled silence settled over the Council, and I was tempted to break the silence with a wisecrack, but I figured it wouldn't be appreciated. Boromir was still eyeing Aragorn with some disdain, but shock was obviously the more dominant emotion. "Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" 

"And heir to the throne of Gondor," Legolas said. I could see Frodo's shock as well as Boromir's. The young Hobbit had his heart on his sleeve. A few murmurs passed through the Council, but silenced almost immediately.

"_Havo__ dad, Legolas," Aragorn said, holding his palm up to the Elf. Judging by the fact that Legolas sat down, it was obviously Elvish for, er, sit down?_

  Boromir's face showed a multitude of emotions, not all of them recognisable. I felt sorry for the man in many ways, but I knew I could do nothing. I was bound to my seat both by expectation and the pain that was still lingering in my thighs and behind my eyes. "Gondor has no king," Boromir said, sounding pained and angered. "Gondor needs no king."

"Aragorn is right," Gandalf said. "We cannot use it." Boromir sat slowly down, obviously seeing he was overruled. 

"You have only one choice," Elrond said. "The Ring must be destroyed."

  _Oh, here we go, I thought. I had a feeling in my stomach that this wouldn't be good – I may have known everything so far, but I had the feeling there was something waiting for me around the corner._

"What are we waiting for?" Gimli piped up. I swung my gaze to him in time to see him raise his axe, run forward at the Ring, and bring it down harshly. Instantly, blinding pain ricocheted around my skull, and I buried my eyes in my hand, elbow on the chair arm. By the time I was okay enough to risk a look, I saw Gimli being helped up off the floor, his axe broken. The Ring was unharmed.

  Frodo too had felt the repercussions of Gimli's act – he too looked pained and was trying to hide in his hand. It was then that I wondered – why was the Ring affecting me? Frodo was the Ringbearer, so it was obviously going to affect him. But why _me? It didn't affect anyone else at the Council (Frodo excluded), and it certainly didn't affect Tommy or Jack. Why me?_

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloín, by any craft that we here possess," Elrond said, apparently unfazed by the little display. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came."  

  The whispery voice returned, and it was speaking in some other language. I groaned, feeling a slight pain starting to throb behind my eyes. 

"One of you must do this," Elrond finished, eyeing the Council.

  A silence ensued, as though no one expected this. Tommy and Jack exchanged looks, then glanced at me, but I barely noticed. I was waiting for what came next – I wanted the Council over fast, before it caused me a haemorrhage or something. 

"One does not simply walk into Mordor," Boromir said, his voice dripping with disdain and annoyance. "Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great Eye is ever watchful." At the word 'eye', I felt sure I must have quickly turned the colour of Saruman's robes. "It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air that you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly." 

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" Legolas cried, jumping up once more. He reminded me of a jack-in-the-box. "The Ring must be destroyed!" He looked around the Council with these words, taking on the lawyer/cheerleader hybrid. 

"And I suppose you think _you're_ the one to do it?!" Gimli barked in disdain, a sneer in his voice. 

"And if we fail?" Boromir cut in. "What then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" Gimli roared. This statement caused instant outburst – the Elves jumped up, Legolas holding some of them back, and the Dwarves followed suit. Soon, everyone was up and arguing aside from me, Tommy, Jack, and Frodo.

"Never trust an Elf!" Gimli's voice called out.

  Gandalf was speaking, but I couldn't hear. Instead, the whispering voice came, and I could hear it in a language that struck a fear into my heart. My eyes were on the Ring.

"_Ash nazg durbatuluk, Ash nazg gimbatul, Ash nazg thrakatuluk, Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul…_"

  I could see in the Ring's golden depths a fire, a fire consuming the reflections of the Council in a symbolic and foreboding way. Just when I was considering doing something – anything – a voice rang out, "I will take it! I will take it!"    

  Everyone fell silent, and turned towards the Hobbit who had spoken.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor," Frodo said, looking afraid. "Though…though I do not know the way." For some reason, I wanted to exhale in relief. I glanced at my brothers, and saw that they looked disturbed – but then, so was I. We all had every right to be disturbed.

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins," Gandalf said, moving to place his hand on the Hobbit's shoulder. "As long as it is yours to bear."

"If, by my life or death, I can protect you, I will." Aragorn rose from he seat strode over and knelt in front of Frodo. "You have my sword." I swear I saw Gandalf wink at Elrond. My mind instantly started cooking up perverse scenarios, but halfway through, the lingering pain in my mind forced me to give up.

"And you have my bow," Legolas said, standing beside Frodo.

"And my axe," Gimli said, moving to stand next to Legolas. Legolas cast a slightly annoyed look at the Dwarf, and Gimli seemed amused and pleased at the reaction. 

  Boromir walked slowly towards Frodo. "You carry the fate of us all, little one," he said, as Aragorn placed a supportive hand on Frodo's shoulder. "If this is the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done." 

"Here!" A voice cried, startling me momentarily. Sam came barrelling out from some nearby bushes, running up next to Frodo. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me."

"No, indeed," Elrond said, as Frodo smiled fondly at Sam (yet again, more material for perverse scenarios, but my mind wasn't up to it), "It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council, and you are not."

"Oy! We're coming too!" Everyone turned, surprised, to see Merry and Pippin running over. Elrond watched with shock as they ran past him and stood next to Frodo. "You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!" Merry said. 

"Anyway," Pippin said, "You need people of intelligence on this sort of mission. Quest. Thing." I smiled. Merry and Pippin reminded me of myself and Thalia when we got together. Of course, Thalia was Pippin.

"Well, that rules you out, Pip," Merry snorted.

  It was then that Elrond turned towards us, the only three still sitting. "Tommy, Carolina, Jack." All three of us stood up, shooting each other furtive glances before looking back to Elrond. The rest in the Council eyed us with interest. "It is in my knowledge that you can be helpful on this mission. It is my wish that you join this group."

"If we can do anything, we'll do it," Tommy said, nodding. And _I_ was supposed to be the wannabe hero?

  I nodded, looking to Frodo. He was staring at me with large blue eyes, and in his hand he now clutched the One Ring. "We'll do anything we can," I said, "and we won't fail you."

  The words that left my mouth were spoken from me, but it didn't feel like it. The whole thing felt too surreal, too fantastical.

"Twelve companions," Elrond said, eyeing us all, and I caught Gandalf giving me an almost encouraging, secretive look. "So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Great!" Pippin cheered. "Where are we going?"


	8. Leaving Rivendell

A/M: I am SO sorry it appeared like I've disappeared off the face of the earth! Turns out there was a virus stopping me from getting in to FF.Net goddamit! Anyway, I have two fresh chapters, and in case this ever happens again, I have a Yahoo group for this story at but you have to have a Yahoo account to join. Thanks for all the reviews, and enjoy!

   ~*~ Andariel666 ~*~

Forgive them that tear down my soul 

And bless them that they might grow old 

Ooh, and free them so that they may know 

That it's never 

Too late 

All the many times, what seemed like a memory 

I've searched and found the ways, you used to lure me in 

Oh, I've found a way, of why it had to be 

Mired in denial and so hard to break 

  - Guns N' Roses, Madagascar

  We left Rivendell early next morn. Elrond allowed us the day to prepare and be ready to embark on the extremely dangerous mission. One which my brothers and I had been dragged into.

  Tommy was always one for the gung-ho experiences in life, so he actually seemed quite eager. When I reminded him of Kimberly and Reiss, he said that Reiss he would miss, but that Kimberly would just be pleased to get his bank account. I thumped him on the arm for that one. 

  Jack was his usual stony self. He had heard of his mission, he didn't like it, but he accepted it and kept silent about it. I both admired him and got annoyed at him for this. Did he think he wasn't human? Well, he was, and so were the people he was hurting. Namely, me and Tommy – and my parents, back in my world. Oh, how they had worried over him.

  Me, I was close to shitting a brick, and not only did that image in itself make me scatty, but I also realised just how important my role was. I was a fairly young girl with hardly any battle experience aside from in the playground, going against Sauron's armies of Orcs, Uruk-Hai, and possibly Saruman's might. Armed with a pen-knife and a lighter. Well, I could finally see what it was like to set something on fire.

  I spent that evening packing. I was half hoping I could avoid dinner, and asked Tommy to tell Elrond I was sick. So I stood in my fairly dark room, one candle lighting my progress, as I packed the clothes the Elves had given me, including a pair of knee-high Elvish boots from Arwen. I tried them on when she gave them to me, and they were so comfortable it felt like I was wearing nothing on my feet, or at least wearing socks. I asked her how I could thank her, and she just said to take care of myself and the others was thanks enough. Elvish sentimentality and values really put my own into perspective. I also made sure my tarot was in my pouch with my two weapons. I couldn't leave those behind.

  All the while, I wondered what was happening at home – were my family missing me? Or were they just missing Jack and Tommy? I know I can be one of the biggest pains around because I can be stubborn and tyrannical. 

  What I was feeling at that moment can't really be put down in words – I was always good in English, had a good grasp of vocabulary and punctuation, but I could never put any of those skills to work when it came to myself. How I was feeling was…have you ever been alone, feeling like your back was pressed against the wall, and that there were several figures, mere silhouettes to your eyes, leering down at you, giving off the most powerful waves of danger, treachery, and any other negative feelings, and you can't defend yourself – all you can do is back yourself further into a corner and hiss out harsh words, hoping that any who hears will stay away, whilst your only friend was your mind, your sanity – or insanity – and a blade? That's what I felt like, only a few years ago, every day of my life. I lost those feelings for a while, whilst my life was picking up, but I never forgot them. And they were back. Only this time, behind the silhouettes, I could see a fiery eye watching me, waiting. Waiting…

"_Arwenamin_?"

  I jumped. Legolas was standing in the doorway, dressed in the same way as he had been in the Trollshaws. "Oh, Legolas, wow. You're so quiet it made me jump."

"Forgive me," he smiled. Then he turned serious. "You weren't at the luncheon."

  I shrugged slightly, folding a shirt. "I haven't been feeling well. It's pointless to eat food if I'm only going to puke…er, regurgitate it anyway."

  Legolas took my hand a placed something wrapped in a fabric-like paper Elvish-style napkin. "Lembas bread," he explained. "It will give you strength. You must eat something, you need your strength for the quest."

  I nodded. "Thanks." I smiled gently. His concern was sweet, but I was wondering if it was his. Maybe someone had asked him to come here?

"Did you know what was going to happen at the Council?" Legolas asked. 

  His question shocked me momentarily. I wondered what the best way to answer that question was. "When Elrond asked me and my brothers to join the Fellowship…no, that I _wasn't expecting – or at least, if I was expecting it, I didn't believe it would happen, if you get my meaning. Naivety is the word. But the rest…yes, I knew you and others would offer your services, I knew Frodo would rise to the task."_

  Legolas was silent, and the contemplative look made me want to kiss him. But, of course, I restrained myself, and busied myself by continuing to pack, trying not to appear too upset. 

"I have something else for you," he said softly.

  I glanced up. He turned towards the slightly ajar door, and brought in a sword in a scabbard. He drew it out, and I gaped. It was long and powerful, with Elvish inscriptions along the edge. 

"I thought you might need this, arwenamin. No offence, but I thought that perhaps your own blade would be inefficient against Orcs."

"You read my mind," I chuckled, accepting the sword and testing it in my hands. I swung it a few times, rotating it circular wise in my hand.

"You have experience with a blade?" Legolas asked, sounding rather surprised.

"I took Ken Do lessons in my world," I said gently. "I had a swordstick – a sword disguised as a walking stick. I got it after my dog – my animal companion – died of old age and could no longer protect me."

  Legolas nodded. 

"Thank you," I said. "At least now I have a good chance of being useful in a battle."

"Your brothers were given blades as well," Legolas said. "However, this one is from my collection. It seemed to suit you."

  I was surprised, but merely smiled. "I wish I could give you something in return," I said gently. 

"Do not let it concern you, _melamin, it is not important," Legolas said._

  I raised an eyebrow. "_Melamin_?" 

  He seemed to blush. 

"You can call me Carrie, you know," I smiled. "I don't mind."

  He smiled too; relieved I hadn't pressed the issue further. _Melamin? What was that? Probably Elvish for 'You Demented Bitch'. _

  I attached the scabbard to my belt, testing it. "Not bad," I said with a grin. "Now I've just got to make sure I haven't forgotten my lessons."

  Legolas stayed for a while, making sure I ate the Lembas and we talked about small things, but things that were important to us – he spoke of his family and his archery skills, and I spoke of my family and some of the things in my world. He looked both awed and horrified at the idea of cars. He guessed that while they were a good way to travel, surely the pollution would kill the inhabitants of the world. I decided not to tell him just yet of the toxic waste, the ozone, and global warming. 

  After he left, I had been feeling less stressed. I allowed myself to fall into bed and sleep straight away. Dreams plagued my sleep, full, detailed, horrifying dreams.

  However, when I woke up the next morning, all I could remember was hearing masculine screams, fire, gold glints and an old, important looking book, its pages blowing as though invisible hands were turning them. 

----------@nd@®iel666----------

  We left early, refreshed and rather energetic. Well, some of us were anyway. I was feeling normal, but more alert than I had been in a long time. The other Lembas bread Legolas gave me that morning helped me become more alert and less sleepy than I had been in a long time. I found myself walking in my fabulous boots, taking healthy strides and admiring the landscape. I was a country girl, and I fully appreciated the peaceful decadence of the landscape. 

  Tommy and Jack, both decked in Elvish garb with their swords and essentials, were taking big, strong strides, and after a while of walking, Tommy and Gimli discussed good battle strategies while Jack forked off and seemed to actually be having a laugh with Merry and Pippin. I was half jealous, half comforted – I hadn't seen him smile or laugh in a long time. 

  Legolas seemed to be conversing a lot with Gandalf, Frodo and Sam stayed with Bill the pony, and Aragorn seemed to purposely keep his distance from any conversation whatsoever. However, Boromir seemed his normal self, and sidled over for a conversation. It was actually quite refreshing in many ways – he seemed enthusiastic to talk, and I hadn't spoken to someone like that in a long time. He told me of Gondor – and I've gotta admit, aside from the lack of women's rights, it sounded like a cool place. I told him snatches about my own home, spoke of my sister, brothers, parents, etc. – but I didn't share too much, in case he didn't know where I was from. I kept my mouth shut about that. I was still fighting with the knowledge that Boromir was going to die. It was while I was agonising over that that something struck me like gas tends to strike my cousin. I was here to change things. Maybe I could prevent Boromir's death! Yes, the idea of that was very appealing, and the fact that it hadn't crossed my mind before made me feel pretty stupid.

  Not too long later, Gandalf called for me to join him. I jogged up to the front, slightly worried about why he would want to speak to me. Had I said too much about something?

"What lies directly ahead of us, Carrie?" Gandalf asked.

  I frowned. It was hard to remember, since I didn't have a good head when it came to place names. "We're going to stop somewhere for a break," I said. "I can't quite remember where, but when we stop, Saruman's spies will be upon us, and we'll be forced to change direction." 

  Gandalf nodded, and didn't look too worried that I knew all about Saruman and his spies. "That is all I wish to know for now," he said, and then, "How is everything?"

"Fabulous," I said. "I always wanted to throw an evil ring into a volcano." 

  He didn't do anything, but fell silent for a moment. "You hide yourself behind snide comments. Why?" 

  I groaned inwardly. Gandalf the psychologist. "People have asked me that before, you know," I said.

"And?" He asked.

"I gave them the finger," I replied. At his questioning look, "It's what the people of my world consider a rude gesture. It involves sticking up the middle finger, sometimes some people stick up two, and it represents the most powerful curse word – well, it means 'fuck off'."

  Gandalf was silent for a little longer. At last, he broke the awkward silence by saying, "The Fellowship needs you, Carolina. You can laugh at it and scorn it if you wish, but it needs you. You alone – except for maybe your brothers – can help us get through this quest safely. Snide comments and rude gestures will not help you protect Frodo, as you promised you would do."

  I almost felt ashamed. Almost. Instead, I felt angry. "Maybe if I knew why I was here, I could deal with that instead. I feel like I'm being pulled along on wheels whilst I'm wearing a blindfold."

  Gandalf sighed. "Why you are here remains a mystery, Carolina. But I hope – as does the rest of the Fellowship, I'm sure – that you will help us get through this so that we can return to our families and our homes."

"Great," I muttered, more to myself than him. "Pull on the fucking heartstrings." I glared at him. "I said I would help, and I will. Just don't expect me to shut the hell up in the middle of blowing a gasket, because I _need_ to, in case you haven't noticed the sulking git back there that is my brother, oh, and the insane girl saying this who's from another world!"

  Gandalf merely smiled. "I understand."

  Oooh, now that was actually frustrating. I knew he was trying to reverse things on me to trick me into trapping myself, so instead, I said, "Is that all?"

  He nodded, and I dropped back until I was next to Tommy. "Who would have thought trekking through this fantastic landscape to throw a ring into a volcano would be so exhilarating, so fantabulous, so _fucking frustrating_," I finished my sentence on a growl.

"Who lit your bitch-fuse?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Does it really matter? _No one_ is telling me _anything_. I'd at least like to know why we're here. I mean, Gandalf is acting as though it's normal for a girl to be tipped out of her bed in her world and onto a forest floor in another."

"You aren't the only one," Jack said, deciding to join the conversation.

"I never said I was, did I?" I snapped in reply. "I'm just saying that they're acting as though three people from some other world entirely is normal – Elrond seemed the most confused, and for that, I like him. I personally suspect foul play."

"Er, I've suspected that all along, sis," Tommy said, scratching his head.

"Foul play? By whom?" Jack asked.

"There's any number of possibilities," I replied. "Saruman, Sauron himself, Voldemort – oops, no wait, that's Harry Potter. Darth Vadar, oops, there I go again!"

"I thought _you_ were the one proclaiming the reality of the situation," Jack glared.

"I'm insane, you imbecile, what more do you expect?" I hissed back. "For all I know, Gandalf could have brought us here!"

"Gandalf? Why would Gandalf do that?" Jack asked, frowning.

  Grrr, that boy! "Why should I know these things?!" I snapped, quite loudly too. "Do _you_ know these things?!"

  I noticed that everybody had stopped walking and they were all staring at me. Tommy was looking impressed – probably the whole 'the mouse the roared' thing. 

"Sor-ry." I said, blushing scarlet off their looks. I was off to a great start.


	9. Memories

A/N: Heya all, how'd ya like so far? This chapter…is a little hard for me, I probably won't read it ever again. I'm touching on raw personal feelings here, ones that I wish I'd forgotten, and it's making me get a little teary, so bear with me. 

 So I speak to you in riddles

'Cause my words get in my way.

I smoke the whole thing to my head

And feel it wash away.

'Cause I can't take anymore of this

I wanna come apart,

Or dig myself a little hole

Inside your precious heart.

  - Staind, Epiphany

The sun was cruel. Very cruel. Of course, the sun is always cruel to me – I suppose that because I always used to be such a recluse, the lack of light took its toll on my skin and my mind – when subjected to a lot of sunlight and heat, I get awful migraines and blotches or welts on my skin. People call me a vampire, and I agree with them.

  So, as you can imagine, as I trekked across this beautiful landscape with the Fellowship, the sun beating down on us, I was silently dying. I had the familiar tingling feeling on my forearms that told me I had welts there, and my head was slowly beginning to pick up an odd drumbeat. No one else seemed affected – they walked on and talked amongst themselves. I didn't speak much to anyone – I knew if I did, I'd snap for no real reason. Sensing this, Tommy and Jack strayed off to question the Fellowship, even though in truth, they knew a lot more than they did.

  I felt at the pouch at my hip, making sure my oddities were still there. Later that night, I figured I'd do a tarot reading to see what lies ahead. I at least liked to explore my options so that surprises had some of the edge taken off of them. I didn't like surprises, not one bit.

  Some time during the course of one long trek along across the lush greenery, Legolas joined me, not saying anything at first, but walking by my side. His presence was almost like cold water in the face – it woke me up, brought me back to reality, but also, in this heat, it was very pleasant – his mere presence made me feel better. There are some people like that, you know? There's the people who naturally make you smile in their presence, like Berry – she always brings a Cheshire-cat grin to my face. Then there's the type of people I called emotional vampires – when in your presence they drain positive feelings from you to fuel themselves, or just plain drain you. Maybe a little like Dementors in Harry Potter, but no, these people were real – Jack was rapidly turning into one, and I had a sneaky suspicion I was too, even though I actually worked most of my life to make people smile, not get depressed. 

"How are you feeling?" Legolas asked.

"I've been better," I said truthfully. "The sun – it kills me." I showed him my enraged arm. "I've never spent much time outside; my skin isn't really safe under the sun."

  He nodded, looking as though the mere thought of getting welts from the sun was something to cry over. "Are you okay? Are they painful…?"

"No, no," I chuckled. "They just itch a little, and make me look like I've got fleas." 

  There was a comfortable silence for a few moments, in which time I studied the Elf next to me. He seemed so strong, but also fragile, almost as though he was a delicate china ornament protected by some strong charm. His presence was both comforting, but it also made me kind of sad – he was a reminder of what I could never have. Even if he was like, "Oh, Carrie, I love you, let's have loads of offspring", what would happen if he knew of all my past and my, er, mental deficiencies? That I self-harm, that I tend to do crazy things that only proceed to make me seem crazy. He'd probably wrinkle his nose and run away to bath away all of the cooties I might have given him. 

  At the same time, I wanted to open up to him badly. It took a lot of self-control and fear of rejection to force my mouth shut. My feelings were confusing me. It isn't easy to touch on personal feelings, not in my case, anyway. I always got top grades in English, I had a fairly good grasp at vocabulary, and I knew what I felt. But I couldn't figure out how to voice it, and most of the time, I didn't want to. To speak of my emotions, my thoughts, anything, was like ripping open my ribcage and allowing those present to rip my heart out, puncture my lungs, devour my soul. If anyone told me I'd done a good job so far on conveying my life, I would thank them, but I would tell them that I hadn't even come close to hitting all of the feelings. Some feelings can't be described – they're just there, and though simple and common, they're so powerful and overwhelming – Sauron has nothing on these emotions.

"When I was about five or six," I said, "my brother Tommy moved away to live with my uncle and his flatmate – his housemate, roommate, whatever – for a while. My uncle, bless his heart, was a great man, but an alcoholic. He and his flatmate drank themselves into oblivion, and my poor brother would lock himself in his room, hating to see lives wasted, especially because my uncle had been cleaning himself up. Anyway, Tommy would sit on his bed, and he would listen to this song on the radio – called Streets of Philadelphia, by Bruce Springsteen. And these days, that song reminds him of uncle so strongly." I swallowed. "Uncle died not so long ago. The alcohol affected his heart, and he passed away…it was so, so painful for everyone, and we were all scrambling for the memories of him that we could keep and hold close, fighting our precious guilt and trying to atone for the guilt that wouldn't go away. But music is the most powerful memory…Tommy always looks subdued and tearful when he hears Streets of Philadelphia, just as I do when a memory is triggered." I shook my head. "And one of my greatest friends, Mark, he died too…he was Jack's friend originally, but…Jack seemed to neglect him after a while. He was soon mine and Tommy's, and his passing struck us down once more. Thinking of him, songs like The Show Must Go On or Adagio for Strings make me remember…"

_"I think you should take the opportunity," Mark said, through typing over the internet. I stared at the screen, knowing more was coming. "Make something out of yourself. Don't let yourself be dragged into ruts like your stupid brother."_

_  I smiled bitterly. Mark knew of Jack's American woman, that she was nothing but a fake. "I have been considering it, quite seriously, too. I'm afraid of the socialising…get rid of the kids and I'll be fine."_

_"Which would you prefer? College or school?"_

_  I winced. "College, I guess. Since the students might be a bit more mature than normal…"_

_"Precisely," Mark typed. "And I think this is a great opportunity. If I were you, I'd snag it; make sure I had a future."_

_"I'll definitely think about it," I replied._

_~*~_

_I was playing computer solitaire. I was concentrating on the cards, trying to force my exhausted brain into gear, my ingestion of booze getting to me – it was Boxing Day, and I was reeling from merriment. Not much of that in our house, but I guess that when you're under the influence of two bottles of Baileys, even a graveyard is merry._

_  The bedroom door opened, and my mother appeared in the doorway, her face tear-stained, her body shaking with sobs. "It's Mark," she said, her voice breaking. "He's dying, Carrie."_

_~*~_

_"Sit down, Carrie," mum said, patting the floor next to her. Penny was sitting on the freezer, tears running down her face, matching mum's own sadness. I was confused, and in my heart, I knew something bad had happened. "It's uncle, Carrie…he was very sick and…he died…"_

_  A fresh sob came from Penny, but I ignored it. I stared at my mum for a moment. I was almost juggling the ideas of whether to cry or not, but then my face crumpled of its own will. I allowed my legs to buckle, and I fell to the floor, crying for my friend, advisor, a kind man, someone who had been mistreated but who treated others well. And I cried for my family – my father, my brothers, everyone – I even cried for the dogs. A gaping chasm was left in all our souls, and I could feel it. And it hurt._

_~*~_

So far so good, _I thought. I hadn't started crying yet. I was like the strong one of the group, the one who had listened to rock on the way there, the one who walked with a straight posture. But then I saw it._

_  The hearse was coming towards us slowly, and in the side window of the leading car, I saw flowers spelling MARK. That was it. I started to sob for all I was worth, my body shaking with the loss of someone who would eventually give me some happiness in life, a reason to live. He was inside that coffin, the one which seemed too small. _

_"He should have been here," I gasped, glaring at the wreath. But Jack was in __America__. With his hussy. He had been warned in advance about Mark's cremation, but he hadn't changed the flights. I hated him at that moment. Almost more than I hated myself._

  I couldn't believe I was telling Legolas these private memories, as we lagged back from the rest, out of ear-shot. I stared at Jack's back, and remembered how at that time I would've loved to have beaten the shit out of him. If anything should be appreciated, it's a friend. Jack had cried at first, but he left for America. Me? Well, I spoke to Tommy a lot, and we grew closer over our grief. I would cry myself to sleep, trying to be quiet so as not to wake my mother, because my room was being decorated and I had to stay in her room. 

  I would ingest as much alcohol as I could lay my hands on, and constantly hold back tears. I remembered one time, I was speaking to Tommy as he drove me home, and he said, "I…I sent him a text message. To his phone. I knew he wouldn't get it, or maybe, in some way, he did, but…I told him all of what he meant to me, how we'll miss him…"

  As he spoke, the resolve I'd built up since that morning had cracked like a delicate egg shell. The tears came hard and fast, and Tommy comforted me as I cried over the loss of my friend, our friend. And when I got home, I sat at my computer, and sent an email to Mark. And I spoke of everything he did for me – and I ended with how I was going to go to college for him. When I sent the message, I wondered if his parents would find it. I didn't care – I wanted them to know how much their son meant to the people whose lives he touched.

  Those were times that I'd love to forget. But I can't. I still remember heading for uncle's cremation, in the car right behind the funeral car. I had a full view of the coffin, and though I didn't cry, the pain was immense. None of it was real. But then…walking to the chapel…

"…the priest, the woman who was doing the service, was standing at the doors, waiting for us…for all those people who turned up for him…and I realised then that it was real. Once again, my legs failed me. And Tommy caught me. It wasn't the first time – nor the last – that he did. He had to practically carry me inside the chapel…those are people I'll never forget, and the feelings won't ever leave me either. Those men both saved me in some special way…" my voice cracked, and I shut up for a moment, trying to regain my sense of control. Tears were threatening to claim my cheeks, and the lump in my throat was painful. I had lived with that lump for months during the courses of the two deaths. "You asked me how I am, and right now, I can't say. I don't know why I'm here, and in some ways, I don't know who I am any more. I'm here with one brother who I love and who I feel would protect me against all odds. And I'm also here with another brother, who used to love me, but then decided I wasn't good enough. I wish I knew where I was going with all this."

  Shame washed over me. Spilling my guts out like this shamelessly. Legolas may have been the only one to hear, but in a way, that wasn't all that good – maybe he really would hate me. But he merely lowered his head. "Death is always a curse, _arwenamin. I have seen my fair share of it, and it never gets easier. The pain lasts forever."_

  I nodded. "I once heard a story. A girl used to lose her temper a lot, especially to her mother. So one day, her mother handed her a bag of nails. She told the girl that every time she lost her temper, she had to hammer a nail into the fence. So the girl did, and soon, she discovered that it was easier and easier to control her temper than to hammer nails into the fence. So, when her moods had stopped, she told her mother. Her mother said that now, for every day she didn't throw a tantrum, she could remove a nail from the fence. So she did, and when all the nails were gone, her mother came up to her, and she said, 'look at the fence. Just like on this fence, tempers and rudeness leave holes in the soul, painful souls that cannot be covered easily. You can remove the nails, but the holes will still be there.'"

"I have never heard that story," Legolas said. "But it is very good. Death leaves imprints on the soul."

_  But death also knows no pain_, I thought. "What happens about the pain?" I asked.

"We are supposed to live with it," Legolas said softly. "Some Elves may die of a broken heart, but those that don't have to survive through the pain, and come out on the other side, scarred, but continuing their journey nonetheless."

  I glanced at Frodo, and suddenly felt a warm rush for the Hobbit. He would be feeling of these emotions after this War. Possibly worse. He had no more control over it than we did. People came into our lives and left just as quickly. We had family, those that love us and those that hurt us, and we had our own integrity and rules. But we couldn't stop Death from claiming those that love us, that we love, and who are important. I might have given anything to turn back the time to repair my uncle and Mark's illnesses, but I couldn't. I had to live with the knowledge that what could have been wasn't, and that if they could have, both Mark and uncle would have told me to stop grieving for the past and get along to the future – to help out this world, not because it's a duty, but because I can. And sensing this, I realised that the mere fact that I was thinking this way showed how much I had aged. 

  I glanced at the Elf beside me, and I knew from the look in his eyes that I could trust him to keep my words secret to his dying day. I looked around at the Fellowship. My brothers, the cruel and the kind. The Hobbits, so innocent yet so brave and strong. The Dwarf, stout and proud. The Men, with issues but good intentions, even if they are spoiled by corruption and lineage. The Wizard, who was wise and strong. The Elf, so beautiful and stable. And me. Who was I? I'm Spiderman. Just kidding. To be truthful, I can't say who I am. Maybe I never will be able to. The only word that comes to surface for me is this. Carrie. 


	10. Spies And Even More Suprises

A/N: Heya all! Sorry I disappeared for a while, but I went to stay with my cousin for a week, and before that my account was locked for a week, so I couldn't update beforehand. Thanks to all who reviewed, it's been really great. Writing like this has helped me, because at the same time as unzipping my mouth, I hope I'm also appealing to others who feel the same way. Everyone's been great about this, thanks to everyone! Anywayz, I'll leave you to this chapter, and I'll start with the next one (the start of which I began to write on holiday, so I wasn't slacking *wink*) and keep your eye out – I'll soon be putting up a parody I wrote with my cousin – known as Muffy/Muffhead. Enjoy! Please R&R!

~*~@nd@®iel~*~

Hey! All I want is what's real!

Something I touch and can feel!

I'll hold it close and never let it go!

Said "Why . . . why do we live this life?

With all this hate inside?"

I'll give it away 'cause I don't want it no more!

Please, help me find a place!

Somewhere far away, yes I'll go and you'll never see me again!!

 - Creed, Bullets

"YAAAAIIIIII!"

  That's the sound my brother Tommy made as he fell down the hill. Well, okay, so I might have pushed him a little…

  Truth be told, I was annoyed, and he just sparked it off by pulling my hair. Gandalf noticed this and, as soon as Boromir had helped Tommy up, he decided we should all stop for a rest. I swallowed my pride enough to mutter a quick 'sorry', before darting off to sit alone. Sometimes, sitting alone is the best thing in the world. Either that, or I was so used to it that it was second nature, like breathing. 

  The landscape was beautiful. An artist I may be, but I draw people and tarot stuff, not landscapes, so all this coming from me about landscapes was actually saying something. It was so green and so pure, there were no cars (though I have to admit, give me an Audi A6 or a Plymouth Fury any day) and no buildings to spoil it. Perfect. 

  The trek had been spent in silence for me, after telling Legolas things I hadn't even told Berry. I was embarrassed and ashamed – certainly, it made me fell a bit less suppressed, but at the same time, what did he think of me now? Did he think me weak? I thought myself weak. I mean, just opening my mouth and letting all that tumble out…my life has never been pretty, and putting in words is not only hard, but embarrassing.

  As I sat there, I thought of my family, my friends, and what I had considered to be my upcoming career. I had planned to join a band, possibly with Berry – she was making progress against the ME. I could play guitar, mainly played lead, and it was my dream to play professionally – or at least, to play in a band. That little dream went hand in hand with my dream of being a portrait artist. What a load of bollocks that was. No offence here, excuse my language and all, but I think I was kidding myself with that one – I'd spent years trying to be an artist and no one had paid any attention. Maybe I was damned to be one of those poor loners seen walking around pushing old lady's personalised trolleys for them – doomed for the rest of eternity to push around an OAP's cart. Lovely. 

  Sam handed me a plate of properly cooked food, stunningly enough. I managed to recover my manners in time to say thank you. As I ate, I watched Frodo Baggins. The hobbit had a slight smile on his face as he watched Boromir try to teach Merry and Pippin some sword fighting. But you could see he wasn't very happy. But then, I wouldn't be either – I was only tagging along and I was complaining like someone had shoved a pole up my – well, never mind. 

  I handed the empty plate back to Sam with a small smile, and glanced around. Aragorn was watching Boromir and the hobbits, Gimli was looking around, as was Legolas, Tommy and Jack were also practicing with their swords, mocking a proper fight with each other. Gandalf was sitting on a boulder, smoking his pipe thoughtfully. I sighed. 

  I couldn't understand why I was feeling unnerved – it was as though there was a great tingling in my body that wasn't painful but seemed unpleasant all the same. I fidgeted, frowning. I tried to think of something else, aside from this – my head was spinning slightly, and it seemed to be getting worse.

_  Think, Carrie! Don't faint, damn it. Ermm…errrrmmm…Rik Mayall!_ I grinned to myself triumphantly. My favourite comedian! He always made me smile – as Drop Dead Fred or as Rick from the Young Ones – he taught me my first curse word. I believe I learned from him 'what a pile of shit'. My smile faded slightly. Rik couldn't save me now…

"Oh lord," I groaned, and clutched at my head.

"Man, what is that?" I heard Tommy whine. I frowned. He felt it too? But – 

  A bright light flashed. Everyone either jumped back or ran for cover. I did neither, but I fell off the boulder I was sitting on. I landed on my ass, and I stared in wide-eyed wonder as a rip seemed to open from the sky, a blue whirlpool in the middle of white light. A silhouette fell from this anomaly, and hit the ground. The whirlpool and the light retracted and disappeared.

Everyone remained still, staring at whatever the figure might be. Gandalf was the first to approach, clutching his staff, whilst Legolas held his bow with an arrow at the ready. I jumped to my feet and slowly trod my way over, frowning. What on earth was that? I didn't remember reading that in the book. 

  As I approached, I saw the figure on the ground more clearly. It had shoulder length medium-brown hair, and was wearing…the clothing of my world! And when this woman – apparently – pulled herself up, Tommy, Jack and myself gasped.

"_Penny_?" We all said together. Then I said, "Bloody hell," sounding a lot less than satisfied – think Spike in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Everyone stared at me. "What the hell is _she_ doing here?" I glared. "What is this, Happy Families in Middle Earth? You picked the wrong family, sweethearts." I kicked at a clump of dirt and turned away, tugging on my hair. 

"W-where am I?" Penny asked, eyes wide. She glanced around, and her gaze fell on us. "Carrie? Jack? Tommy?!"

  Tommy didn't look all that happy either. He and Penny don't get along too well, and sometimes I get stuck in the middle, even though I always secretly lean more towards Tommy. It's not that I don't like my sister, it's just that – well, there are actually times when I don't like her. Hate her, even. We've had fun together, but we're opposites – we clash a lot. I wouldn't be exaggerating in saying that she's prettier than me. She has hazel eyes too, but the green in hers is more pronounced than the green in mine, and her eyes are all large and Bambi-like. She has a great figure, a heart shaped face…our parents prefer her too. The only things I have better than her is my hair and the fact that I actually paid good attention to education. Not that she's an illiterate shcmuck or anything. She just had shitty grades and has forgotten half her schooling. 

"Penny," Jack said, wide-eyed. 

"Who is this?" Gandalf asked, all business-like. 

"Our sister," Tommy said, as he helped Penny up.

"Someone in Middle Earth really wants to sabotage this place," I said, trying my hand at humour. "They're plaguing you with my entire family." 

  Legolas, Boromir and Merry and Pippin looked amused, but the others all looked grim. My siblings glared at me, to which I gave an innocent smile. Once their backs were turned, I allowed my smile to slip into a glare, my lip curled into a look of disgust that might have made Sauron crap himself. 

"This gets stranger with every pace," Gandalf mused, studying Penny. "How many people are there in your family?"

"Five children," Jack said. "And our parents, Tommy's kid and wife, Penny's kids and boyfriend…"

  I started laughing to myself bitterly at the thought of Leela and Danny in Middle Earth. "I might as well throw myself over the cliff right now," I muttered to myself quietly. 

  Unfortunately, Legolas, with his Elf ears, heard me, and cast me a look that said, _don't you dare. I crossed my arms and put on my sulky face. I didn't want Penny here – I didn't want anyone here. I wanted to be back in my bed, I wanted Tommy to be kayaking at Yalding, I wanted Jack to be closed up in his bedroom playing his computer. I wanted Penny to be back home stealing mum's cigarettes. _

"What's going on here?" Penny asked, looking frightened. 

"You are in Middle Earth," Gandalf explained quietly. "It appears you have been pulled into the anomaly that brought your brothers and sister here. Tell me, where were you before this?"

"I was just putting my key in my parents' door," Penny said. "I'd forgotten that I left my milk in their fridge."

  I closed my eyes. She'd been at the house. 

  Penny glanced at us. "And you're here too…"

"I've been here for a week or two," Tommy said.

"Days," Jack said.

"Days," I echoed.

  Penny's eyes widened. "But that's _impossible_! Before everything went black, I heard you, Tommy, yelling about that Anna Kournikova woman."

"We were pulled in at the same time," I said, "but we were released at different times." Something occurred to me. "Hang on – what exactly is the time difference there? I mean, is time standing still while we're here, or are we missing to our world?"

  Gandalf sighed wearily. "That, I am afraid, is a question that cannot be answered by me as of yet. I am still working towards an answer as to how you came to be here in the first place."

  I shook me head, vaguely noting that the lack of surprise from the others meant that they already knew I was from another world.

  Penny glanced around, as though noticing for the first time that there were other people. "Um, who are you?"

  Gandalf smiled softly. "This, my dear, is the Fellowship of the Ring."

  Penny frowned, then her eyes widened. Me and my brothers gave her warning looks, which luckily, she wasn't thick enough to not get, so she merely allowed Gandalf to introduce everybody. I sidled up to Tommy. "I think things just got a whole lot worse," I muttered to him quietly.

"No shit," he said. "Now I'm gonna be arguing with her all the way to Mount Doom."

"You and me both, honey," I replied, shaking my head. "In fact, I say we push her in instead of the Ring." That made us both chuckle. Penny was definitely going to make things harder – I mean, she used so little brain capacity in a day it made you wonder if the rest of her brain was covered in dust or something. Or if she just needed oiling up like the Tin Man. Thinking of that, I sang to myself, "If only I had a brain…"

  Jack smirked at me. I gave him the finger. 

"Well, it would appear the Fellowship has gained a new member," Aragorn said, looking disconcerted but accepting.

"Gandalf…"

  Legolas was looking to the distance, a frown marring his features. I followed his gaze, and froze. How could I have been so stupid? It appeared that my little mental dig at Penny's brain had ricocheted back at me. I'd let my own prediction slip past me. A black, cloud-like formation was moving towards as…

"What is that?" Sam asked, looking at it worriedly. 

"Nothing," Gimli said. "It is just a wisp of cloud."

"It is moving fast," Boromir said distantly. "Against the wind."

  Gandalf glanced at me, and he must have seen the look in my eyes. "Quickly!" He cried, "Take cover!"

"Crebain from Dunland!" Legolas said, and instantly moved quickly, grabbing my forearm and ushering me along. I was vaguely aware of everyone moving behind us, as Legolas and I dove over a rock and hid behind it, breathing rapidly.

  I heard squawks and a horrible, leathery rustling of dark wings. There were many of these Crebain. I glanced to Legolas, and he glanced back. He gave a reassuring smile, but I didn't really register it as reassuring. Not right now. My brain was on a whirligig, and only a tranquiliser dart in the ass could calm me now. 

  I rested my forehead on the smooth rock, waiting for the Crebain to pass. Sharp stabs of pain were shooting through my head, and I felt almost as though I were being shrivelled, like a grape in the sun becoming a raisin. I just wanted to shrink back into the shadows, I wanted to dispel the pain from behind my eyes.

"_Melamin?" Legolas asked carefully. "Are you well?"_

  I opened my eyes, and rolled my forehead on the stone as I turned my head towards him. I nodded weakly. "H-headache."

  Soon, Gandalf gave the all-clear, and we all crawled out from our hiding places, looking about us wearily. Gandalf eyed the skies, before turning to me. "Well, if I had doubted you before, Carrie, I most certainly do not now." He shook his head. "Spies of Saruman. The passage south is being watched. We must take the pass of Caradhras."

  Caradhras…why did that ring a bell in my mind? After the spies…oh, crap. Caradhras! I glanced at Gandalf in a questioning way, but the look he gave me clearly said he didn't want to know what lay ahead. Apparently, he would rather risk Caradhras than Moria. Of course, I knew why. But still – I could change things. I could stop Pippin from making too much noise, I could save time – if only people would listen to me. Story of my life, you know. No one ever listens to me. I hate to sound sorry for myself and all, but it's true. 

  I frowned. "Caradhras…"

"Yes," Gandalf said, and the tone of his voice was final. I swallowed, and glanced at my brothers. No point in looking to Penny – she was pretty much useless. Jack and Tommy knew what would happen, and they stared back at me with looks of confusion. I shook my head. Gandalf would be impenetrable in his decisions, I knew this. We had no choice but to take the cold route of Caradhras.

A/N: Well, princess of mirkwood5, I took you up on your idea *wink*. I might have said it, or I might just be losing my marbles, but I think I may have once said that if anyone has any ideas, please present them, and if I can work them in and make it believable, I will try. So, hope you liked!


	11. Caradhras

A/N: Heya all! Sorry I disappeared again, it's been really hectic, and I've been degenerated into a mindless dork, due to a moth-long heatwave that's killing me slowly but surely. Why couldn't it just rain, like it always does?! Anyway, thanks SO MUCH to all who reviewed, and jus as a warning, no more people in Carrie's family will be appearing – I've got all I need, and they'll all play parts in the future. And also, mine and my cousin's LOTR parody is up now, so have a read if you think you can handle the rather scary humour! Enjoy

  ~*~@nd@®iel666~*~

I feel your earth shake

I feel your body quake, forever, forever

Oh, I see the walls break

I feel your heartache, whenever

Do you know how I feel inside

I feel like I'm caught in the tide

I'm caught in the landslide

 - Slash's Snakepit, Landslide

Fear is a very powerful thing. It can change someone's most stubborn opinion – can reduce men to tears. It lays the way for betrayal and loss; it shapes us into who we are. 

  I was afraid.

  The great Caradhras was under our feet, and I could do nothing, even though I knew what folly lie ahead. My attempts to warn Gandalf had been fruitless. He feared Moria and he was prepared to risk the path into the snowy mountains. I couldn't believe his blindness, the stupidity of the situation. If he would only listen, less time would be wasted.

  I love the cold, I really do. Give me rain and snow over sunshine any day. But this was ridiculously cold. My very heart felt like an iceberg. My mind was trying to work but was falling into numbness. I was afraid of Caradhras and what lay beyond it.

  Just before starting the climb into the winding paths of the mountains, Frodo had a little fall. He fell backwards, toppling through the snow, his weariness getting the better of him. 

  Aragorn, who continually watched the hobbit protectively, hauled Frodo up gently. Frodo instantly felt about his neck, where he wore the One Ring on a chain. It was not there.

  We all seemed to collectively hold our breaths when Boromir bent over something glinting in the snow. I kept my eyes on him, worried and cautious. He picked it up by the chain, holding it in front of his face as though for close inspection.

"Boromir," Aragorn said, but Boromir didn't seem to have heard. 

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing. Such a little thing." 

  A pain sliced through my head. I could feel the lust Boromir felt for the Ring, and it aggrieved me. The pain was hideous, and through it, I could see wreaths of flames. I had to do something, anything.

"Boromir," I said, and I realised how dark and unnatural my voice sounded. It certainly shocked Boromir, who turned to glance at me. "Give the Ring to Frodo," I ordered.

  Boromir blinked, as though he didn't know what I was talking about. Then he noticed the chain held tight in his grasp. He cleared his throat. "As you wish."

  He walked over to Frodo and Aragorn, and held the Ring out for Frodo to take. The hobbit practically snatched the Ring from Boromir.

  Boromir gave a nervous chuckle. "I care not," he said, and walked off. As he did, I saw Aragorn remove his hand from his sword hilt. 

*

  Partway in, all hell seemed to break loose. Jack was once again with the hobbits, who seemed to like him quite a bit. Legolas was scouting ahead, since he was so good on his feet (which I envied him for). Tommy was talking to Gimli, and Penny was walking next to me, though we barely spoke to each other. She seemed to know I wasn't in a very tolerant mood. 

  Tommy was talking about Reiss. "He's a great little nipper," he said to Gimli. "He can write too, which is pretty good for his age, seeing as he's four…"

"Don't rub it in," Penny said.

  Tommy blinked at her. "What?"

"You're rubbing it in," she snapped. "That Leela can't write."

"I'm not," Tommy started indignantly.

"You're _always_ doing this," Penny snapped. "Always making Reiss out to be the good one. What's wrong with Leela, huh?"

"There's nothing fuckin' wrong with Leela, Pen, I'm just bound to speak highly of him, he's my son – "

"You always have to try and outdo me by saying Reiss is this and Reiss is that!" Penny cried. By now, everyone was watching with wide eyes. "Sure, Leela can be a little…high spirited, but she can do just as much as your son!"

"Wait just a minute," Tommy started, getting angry. The fight was getting louder and more full blown.

"What, can't handle the truth, Trashmouth?" Penny sneered.

"Uh," Jack said quietly, since he was standing next to me now. "Should we do something?"

  I frowned, then stepped between my fighting siblings. "SHUT UP!"

  They both fell silent and looked at me.

"Okay, now, just shut up and listen to me," I said, looking from one to the other. "Tommy was just speaking highly of Reiss because he's his child, as you are prone to do with Leela, Penny. Oh, and while we're on the subject of Leela – you've gotta get the chip off your shoulder that everyone's out to get her. They're _not_, they just resent the fact that she's allowed to get away with frickin' murder."

"She does not!" Penny yelled angrily. "You're just saying that because you prefer Reiss!"

"Reiss hasn't given me a firm backhander across the face!" I yelled back. "If your daughter was disciplined more, she wouldn't have been so 'high spirited', and maybe fewer people would be so afraid to approach her in case she lets rip on them!" I shook my head. "You've gotta stop thinking there's competition between the two of them, Penny! Reiss is Tommy's son, and he has his strengths, which Tommy is bound to brag about – and vice versa for you and Leela! This isn't a race, they're two entirely different children who aren't part in a pedigree prize show, for fucks sake!"

  Penny had the decency to look ashamed, her face a hue of crimson. Tommy looked surprised, but grateful. 

"And before I dismiss this case, don't call him a fuckin' Trashmouth, or I'll bloody kill you," I said. After all, it was pot calling the kettle black. 

  I walked away, shaking my head, and the rest of the group started moving too, embarrassed to have witnessed the arguments. My face was burning, as I could feel eyes on me. I slowed my pace next to Legolas.

"So, has my family scared you into catatonia yet?"

  He cast a soft smile my way, and it made me want to melt. "Nay, not scared…but they are rather unusual…"

  I snorted. "Unusual, yeah. And completely outta their minds. You know, from when I was 1 to 7, I thought Tommy was God. Then from 7 – 10, I thought Penny was. Then from 10 – 16, I thought Jack was the best. Then, from 16 and ever since, I've batted back to Tommy. They keep changing so much that it makes my head spin, but turns out that Tommy seems to be the only one who…"

"Makes you feel as though you do indeed exist, not just for existing but because you can feel, love and be loved," Legolas said quietly.

  I stared at him, stunned.

"I too have siblings, _Melamin_," he said softly. "I understand how you feel."

  It seemed that someone who so beautifully ethereal and unreal had become real, like going from 2D to 3D. All I could do was look at him and see him in a new light – I realised with shame that I had considered him a fictional character, and therefore without much content. I was embarrassed to realise that he was deeper than I had first thought.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"For what, _Lirimaer_? You have done nothing but made me see that there are others out there with likenesses to myself."

  I smiled softly. "_Melamin, Lirimaer…what do these names mean?"_

  He cast me an almost cocky smile. "You shall find out."

  I shook my head, smiling. "Well then, tell me…what is 'my friend' in Elvish?"

"_Mellonamin_," Legolas replied. I nodded, processing this. "Carrie…" He started, then said, "You are proving to be different from how I first perceived you…"

"It was a pretty bad first impression I gave, huh?" I said, smiling wryly.

"Nay," Legolas replied, shaking his head. "You showed fight men most mortal women would cower. For that I respect thee. But that was precisely what I meant – you are different from other mortal women not only in that way, but because none others I have met have shared my feelings so closely…"

"I'm nothing special," I said quickly. I didn't want to hear him glorifying me in any way because not only was none of it true, but because it would make the fact that he could never be close to me in any way other than a friend more painful. "I just know what I see is right and I follow it."

  He glanced at me. "I should like to speak to you more freely, when we have even a short time to spare."

"And we shall," I nodded. "But right now, we must get past this…" I paused, realising I was about to reveal the future. "Mountain…" I finished awkwardly. 

  Legolas nodded, before leaving to scout on ahead. As he did, I caught sight of Gandalf, and wondered if perhaps I should ask him what Legolas's Elvish names for me meant, but I was so afraid that they weren't positive that I stayed my mouth, and instead walked alone. As I walked, I placed my hand over the pouch at my hip, and decided that once out of the snow and out of Moria, I would do a reading. I did not want to damage my cards in any way.

  Tommy came up beside me. "Thanks for sorting that out, sis."

"No problemo," I said, forcing a smile to my face. I seemed to be doing that a lot these days – nothing ever seemed to make me smile anymore.

"I hate the whole fighting for the pedestal thing," Tommy said, frowning bitterly. "Reiss is my little boy and I love him because he's him, not because he can write and Leela can't."

"Don't worry about it," I replied. "I think everyone knows that no one's perfect." As I said this, I cast a glance at Legolas's back. I wondered what his imperfections were – if he had any. I shook my head. "Here's to hoping we survive this," I said, patting Tommy on his shoulder. 

----------@nd@®iel666----------

The blizzard was strong and rather painful. I had to do my old trick of keeping myself stable by tensing my muscles, and slowly but surely, cramps were on the way. Everyone except Legolas were finding it hard to move along through this blizzard. Tommy was holding my arm, keeping both me and himself stable as the snow whipped at our faces, stinging our cheeks and making as gasp.

  It had started very quickly, this storm. So quickly that it was ridiculous. To top it off, the pain in my forehead was growing, and by now, I knew that this meant bad shit was happening – which I knew anyway because, hey, Caradhras said it all.

"There is a fell voice on the air!" Legolas called, as he scanned the skies.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf cried, as boulders and large clumps of snow began to fall. 

  Aragorn shook his head, as he and Boromir tried to support the hobbits. "He is trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf, we must turn back!"

"No!" Gandalf cried, and even in my frozen, half-living state, I felt angry and defeated. He then began chanting. "_Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i 'ruith!"_

  Over the deafening roar that was the blizzard, we heard a voice replying to Gandalf on the wind. I knew I must have looked quite stupid, standing there with my hair askew and frozen in places, my mouth hanging open, my eyes half shut. My mind could barely process anything, and I could feel the familiar drowsiness that I normally felt when drunk. The only thing being, somewhere in my mind, a voice said; _remember what you read in English class. You fall asleep now, you die_. 

  Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck a nearby overhanging mountain top, and a cascade of snow and rocks began to fall. A shitload of snow hit me hard, bringing me down. My mind barely perceived the coldness and the pain before blackness washed over me and I stopped thinking. 


	12. Unconscious And Dreaming

A/N: Heya all! Just thought I'd say, I know the song I used for this isn't a rock song, but I really respect Robbie Williams and his music, and I know a lot of you might not know who he is, but I'd recommend him. This is his song called No Regrets. This chapter was written on a day when I had a similar time to the contents of this story and I was feeling pretty damn shitty. But good news – in the following chapters I'll start to make Legolas and Carrie closer.

**_Tell me a story  
Where we all change  
And we'd live our lives together  
And not estranged…_**

_It was sunny, too sunny. The heat was blistering my skin, my mind spinning. A sickness was washing over me, as a sheen covered my forehead, my eyes glazed. I wore a vest top, defying my normal style of t-shirt or sweater. My jeans made me feel stifled, but I wore them for fear of wearing anything else. _

_  A sense of sadness was covering me, a sense that had been there from the first moment Leela woke me up with her false coyness. I wasn't happy, I knew that. But I had my illusions, and I was good at facades and the like. My family never knew any different. I'd spent the first half of the morning at my computer, staring at the screen, waiting for at least one of my friends to come online so I could talk to them. I was desperately lonely – Thalia lived eighty-odd miles away, and Berry – well, she didn't live far, but it was hard to talk to her because I had to get to her house, and times had to be carefully arranged due to her tiredness._

**_I didn't lose my mind it was_**

**_Mine to give away_**

**_Couldn't stay to watch me cry_**

**_You didn't have the time_**

**_So I softly slip away…_**

_  I was alone. I was used to it, certainly. In fact, I normally enjoy it. Alone, no one can hurt me, and vice versa. Alone, I can take the time to seek out who I am – something I had been attempting for the past god-knows how many years, since I was old enough to realise that the shy, giggling blue-eyed girl was gone. Replaced with a neutral, dark-eyed girl with so many issues it was ridiculous. _

_  I didn't like to preach about it, because no one believed me. Thalia always thought I was fishing for sympathy. Berry was the only one who really understood, and that was because she was in the same boat – we were like sisters, we were so similar._

**_No regrets…they don't work_**

**_No regrets…they only hurt_**

**_Sing me a love song_**

**_Drop me a line_**

**_Suppose it's just a point of view_**

**_But they tell me I'm doin' fine…_**

_  My mother asked me to go with her to get the meat for my brother's birthday barbeque. I didn't want to go, but I knew that if I didn't, she'd force my dad to go around the shops with her, and my dad was as opposed to the monstrous heat as I was. So I decided to do him a favour, and I went with my mother. The trip there was as dull as any could imagine. I had my music player in my ears, and I watched the trees and houses float by through the window, my mind wandering, as minds tend to do when you're in a car. I caught sight of my reflection, and winced._

_  In some ways, I looked better than before. I had plucked my eyebrows and managed to rid any acne that had fallen upon me. But at the same time, I was pasty, sour-faced, and the bags under my eyes were awful. I was a sight to behold, but not in a nice way._

_  The supermarket was thriving, with people running in there to simply buy ice cream or fizzy drinks to cool down with ice. My mother and I walked around the shop, but I was completely silent. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I'd say something I would regret. I was in one of those moods where everyone you see is to blame. I was seething inside, and the only explanation I had was the heat._

****

**_I know from the outside_**

**_We looked good for each other_**

**_Felt things were going wrong when_**

**_You didn't like my mother…_**

_  We stopped in the multimedia aisle, and whilst my mum browsed the CDs, I let my eyes flick over the DVD titles. They stopped on the cartoon version of Lord of the Rings, released before I was born. It was a good movie, quite entertaining. It had spawned many fantasies in my mind, of being a hobbit in the peaceful shire, being a beautiful Elf in Lothlorien or Rivendell. _

_  But I never considered being an Istar, like Gandalf. I knew that if I was, I'd abuse the power just like Saruman did. I'm very much a person inclined towards vengeance, and I would be merciless to anyone who hurt me if I were an Istar. It hurts me to admit it, but I cannot lie. I am not an honourable person._

**_I don't want to hate but that's_**

**_All you've left me with_**

**_A bitter after taste and a fantasy of_**

**_How we all could live…_**

_ All the way through the checkout, I stared stonily ahead. Was this to be my life? Accompanying my mother to a supermarket, merely because I was there to carry the shopping? Because I had nothing else to do? I had plans for the future, oh yes, I did. But at that moment, even those plans that had once filled me with so much hope seemed desolate and lonely. I had no destiny – I was simply the last of five children, probably an accident anyhow. Why would I be anything in the world? My parents thought I was doing fine – they didn't see what went on behind closed doors. Probably didn't care either._

_  Tears pricked my eyes, and I thought of Mark, who said I had so much potential. He seemed to be the only one who thought so. He'd been taken away from me, and now I had no one. No one to tell me I was worth anything. My only salvation was a razor blade and a bottle of alcohol. _

**_No regrets…they don't work  
No regrets…they only hurt  
(We've been told you stay up late)  
I know they're still talking  
(You're far too short to carry weight)  
The demons in your head  
(Return the videos they're late)  
If I could just stop hating you  
(Goodbye)  
I'd feel sorry for us instead…_**

_As I left, I grabbed the heavier bags for my mother and we walked towards the car. She was rambling on, but I hardly heard anything. Was this a midlife crisis at 22? Or were my eyes for once open?_

_  I tripped slightly on a jutting piece of pavement, and as I caught my balance, every ounce of anger brew to the surface. Anger at those that brought me to the world, anger at those who made me change from being the likeable little girl to the invisible woman, anger at everything. Anger at cancer for taking Mark and my dog away, anger at the hate I held close to my heart. _

_"Are you okay?" My mother asked._

_"I'm fine," I snarled. "Let's just get the hell out of here."_

_  There. I'd spoiled my self-control. I was now a ball of anger, and I spent the journey home in stony silence, my jaw clenched so tight I wouldn't be surprised if veins were popping out at my throat. _

**_Remember the photographs (insane)  
The ones where we all laugh (so lame)  
We were having the time of our lives  
Well thank you it was a real blast…_**

_  Once home, I ran up the stairs, seeking shelter in my bedroom with my computer, to block away my anger._

_  My bedroom was very dolphin oriented. They were such beautiful, intelligent things. And then there were wolves. I always wished I were a wolf, so that I might stalk, attack, and just simply be something so beautiful and powerful – everything I was not. The only power I had was the extremities of my anger._

_  I sat in my office chair and stared at the monitor, at the Guns N' Roses background I had. Some of my anger diminished slightly. Guns N' Roses had saved my life in some ways – their lyrics had lulled me back to safety from the most depressing of moods. They were the voice of my childhood, reminding me of the blue-eyed girl sitting in the back of her father's car, asking to listen to Civil War, not knowing the band's name until years later, when she would hold them to her heart so closely that they were the reason she lived. What else was there?_

**_No regrets / they don't work  
No regrets / they only hurt  
Write me a love song  
Drop me a line  
Suppose it's just a point of view  
But they tell me I'm doin' fine…_**

_  In some ways, I was still that little girl, smiling, hoping for someone to recognise her and what secrets she held. But in other ways, I was so far away from here it's as if she was never me, but another girl. Hell, even my eyes changed colour, separating us both. I felt as though all innocence had been drained from me, any chances of growing up with stability and living my younger years to their fullest gone on a gust of icy wind. What would the younger Carrie say if she saw me now? Would she be proud? The only thing I was proud of was that I hadn't killed myself. _

_  I double clicked on my private folder, and opened the folder labelled 'My Pics'. Then I double clicked on another folder, and opened a picture. It was of a five-year old Carrie, sitting on her brother Tommy's lap. She was smiling up at him, her face scrunched up in joy. And he was smiling back at her. It was a beautiful picture, and I was reminded once more of how much I loved my brother. He had done so much for me – others may find him too crass and rough, but he was perfect. _

**_Everything I wanted to be every  
Time I walked away  
Everytime you told me to leave  
I just wanted to stay  
Every time you looked at me and  
Everytime you smiled  
I felt so vacant you treat me like a child  
I loved the way we used to laugh  
I loved the way we used to smile  
Often I sit down and think of you  
For a while  
Then it passes by me and I think of  
Someone else instead  
I guess the love we once had is  
Officially dead…_**

_As I stared at the picture, I started to cry. I was crying for my failings, for my misery and my dashed hopes. But I was also crying with a sort of happiness that I had someone who loved me and who I could love back. Someone to live for. When it came to Tommy, there was no regrets._

_  I rested my forehead against the monitor, taking shallow breaths. A tear ran onto my bottom lip, and I licked it away, the salt slowly bringing me back. My overheated feverishness was fading slowly, and suddenly, I was getting very, very cold. It was freezing. My mind began to leap through distorted images, and everything turned fuzzy…_

  I opened my eyes quickly, and stared wide-eyed at the bright blue eyes looking at me. I glanced around. The cold was…snow. I was lying in snow, that was why I was so cold…

  Caradhras. Saruman had just avalanched us with shit loads of snow. I glanced back to the blue eyes, and realised that it was Legolas hovering over me.

"W-where's Tommy?" I asked shakily.

  Tommy's familiar blue-grey eyes peeked over Legolas's shoulder. "I'm here, sis," he said, sounding concerned.

  I forced myself to sit up. I'd blacked out in the avalanche.

"Are you well, _Melamin_?" Legolas asked, looking concerned.

  I glanced at him, and it took a moment to process what he had asked – my wind was still on the whirligig of memories that had swirled in my head. "I will be…"

  I started to get up, and he helped me, gripping my forearm as I got to my feet. I glanced at my siblings. Penny looked worried, Jack was watching silently, but with an odd expression on his face. Tommy took me from Legolas, letting me lean on him. It reminded my of when I cut my finger on a saw almost to the bone. He was the one who helped me, strapping up my finger and sorting me out, whilst I stared in shock at the blood. 

  A tear escaped my eye, and I discreetly wiped it away, hoping no one had noticed it. 

Boromir let out a frustrated noise. "Gandalf, we must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan! Or take the west road to my city."

  Aragorn shook his head. "The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard."

  It was then that Gimli decided to re-voice his previous argument. "We cannot pass over a mountain! Let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria."

  Gandalf glanced to me, looking slightly out of sorts – as though someone had said something that shook him. I gave him a look that I hoped told him danger was ahead. He merely said, "Let the Ringbearer decide…Frodo?"

  There was a silence as all looked to the hobbit, who looked cold and rather ill. After a pause, Frodo said, "We will go through the mines."

  Gandalf looked ill, and I knew why. He knew what was in the mines, and he knew that I knew. The old Istar lowered his eyes and said, "So be it."


	13. Legolas's Memory

A/N: Hiya, back! Again, thanks to all who reviewed! Yeah, Robbie is awesome to me – he's one of the few people of the modern generation of music that I actually listen to (I'm normally stuck in the past with Aerosmith and Guns N' Roses). The song Eternity means a lot to me too because it symbolises a relationship I have with a friend – when I played the song to her it made her cry *sigh*. And if the last chapter was confusing to anybody, sorry! What it is is that she passed out on Caradhras and was taken back in her memories. And to you, Kitta-Boo (wow, that rhymes heh heh), thanks for those compliments, it was pretty amazing to find several in a row from the same person lol. The story of Mark seems to touch many people, and I'm glad of that, because he was a real person – one of the most important people in my life. To Lady Justine Greenleaf, I'm definitely taking your advice into hand, and as an explanation to you, the only reason what happens in this chapter happens is because it's gonna tie in with the final chapter (yep, I already know what'll happen) – Carrie's little injury, I mean. Anyway, here's the next chappie, and Carrie and Legolas have that talk they planned. The song I use is the one I mentioned in the chapter titled Memories, and I make a reference to one of my fave books in here too.

I was bruised and battered, I couldn't tell what I felt.   
I was unrecognizable to myself.   
I saw my reflection in a window, I didn't know my own face.   
Oh brother are you gonna leave me wastin' away   
On the Streets of Philadelphia.   
  
I walked the avenue, 'til my legs felt like stone,   
I heard the voices of friends vanished and gone,   
At night I hear the blood in my veins,   
Just as black and whispering as the rain,   
On the Streets of Philadelphia.

 - Bruce Springsteen, Streets of Philadelphia

We eventually reached a rather dark, grimy place that reminded me of the inside of one of the cups in Jack's room. Eurgh. 

  The night brings me alive, and the darkness of this place made me suddenly straighten up. Of course, I was still in pain and reeling from the shock of passing out in the snow. I hadn't been able to move properly for a while, and for a half degrading, half pleasurable fifteen minutes, Legolas carried me princess-style back down the mountain. I was embarrassed, but at the same time, I wanted to whoop. It felt very warm and comfy. 

  But now I was walking on my own two rather large size 8 feet, and soon, I came to stop with the rest in front of a stone wall.

"The walls of Moria," Gandalf said.

"Where's the door?" Penny muttered. I rolled my eyes.

"Well," Gandalf said. "Let's see…Ithilden. It mirrors only starlight and moonlight."

  I turned my gaze upwards to the skies, in time to see the clouds part, revealing a large, round moon. I heard a gasp, and saw that the door to Moria was revealed. A beautiful thing it was, too.

"Why do I get a bad feeling from this?" Tommy asked.

"Maybe because you saw the cartoon," I suggested, my voice low.

"That might be it," he nodded.

"It reads," Gandalf said, indicating to the door, "The doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak friend and enter."

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry puzzled.

"Oh, it's quite simple," Gandalf said, looking so sure of himself. "If you are a friend, you speak the password, and the doors will open." He put his staff to the door (which, even in my fogged mind, made me chuckle inwardly – hey, I'm very perverse when the mood strikes me) and said, "_Annon Edhellen edro hi ammen!" Silence. Nothing happened. Gandalf tried again. "_Ando Eldarinwa a lasta quettanya, Fenda Casarinwa_!"_

  I glanced over in time to see Aragorn and Sam letting Bill the pony go. I watched the pony go, and in my mind, some part of me was saying, _hop on his back and get out of here as well_!

  But the other part said, _you made a promise, and you're going to keep it_.

"Damn my honourable side," I muttered.

"An honourable side is a good thing to have," Legolas commented, coming up beside me. 

"So I've heard," I replied. "I never used to be conscientious, it's driving me nuts."

  He smiled, and said, "'Tis a sure sign of maturity, _melamin_."

"And here I was thinking I'd never grow up," I grinned. 

  Gentle plops drew my attention. Pippin was skimming stones across the lake, and it was then that I remembered exactly why he should be doing it. I was just about to say something, but Aragorn got there first, staying the hobbit's hand. 

"Do not disturb the water," he said.

"Oh, it's useless," Gandalf sighed, sitting down and taking off his hat.

  I hunted back in my mind, and said, "_Mellon_." The doors creaked open, and everyone turned their gazes to me. "What?" I asked. "I saved time, didn't I? Speak friend and enter. The Elvish for friend is _Mellon. Honestly, it doesn't take a genius, really." Gandalf didn't look pleased at my dig, but the rest were just happy that they didn't have to wait outside for much longer. We all walked into the mines, and I cast a weary look over my shoulder, at the slightly rippling waters of the lake._

"Soon, Master Elf," Gimli said to Legolas, "you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves! Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone! This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a mine. A MINE!"

"This is no mine," Boromir said. "It's a tomb."

  I'd been staring at the ground for a few moments now. The rotting corpses of dwarves and orcs were all over the floor, and the smell was quite rancid.

  Penny shrieked and bounced back, almost knocking Aragorn over. Both my brothers unsheathed their swords, ready to do battle. 

  Gimli gasped. "No! Nooo! NOOOO!" 

  Legolas took an arrow out of a nearby dead body. "Goblins!"

  Boromir shook his head, as though to clear away some bad dream. "We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here! Now get out of here! Get out!"

  We all began to back out. Our eyes were so fixed on the bodies that any of us – those that knew what would happen and those that didn't – didn't think of watching the lake. And so it was that the tentacle was able to grab Frodo and pull him out to the lake. 

  Various cries broke out, and the hobbits ran forward, slashing at the creature with their blades. I was almost frozen to the spot – I never was a brave old soul. A money spider would have me sobbing for my life. I guess seeing this creature made things all the more real and dangerous. What was more, there'd be even bigger battles inside Moria. At the same time, I was feeling a new kind of respect for the hobbits – half my height, twice the strength. 

  They managed to break Frodo free, but almost as soon as they had, more tentacles shot out, hoisting Frodo high into the air. 

  With wide eyes, I released my sword from its sheath, staring at the blade, the battle reflected in it. I was feeling pretty darn useless. As the men rushed into the water (including my brothers) and began slicing at the creature, Legolas shooting his arrows at a distance, I made a split second decision. I rushed forward, and did a spinning jump I'd only ever accomplished once in my sword lessons class. As I came back down, I sliced at a tentacle, and the force behind the spin sliced it clean off. Enraged noises were coming from this monster, but I barely noticed. Blood was pounding, and I could feel the pulse in my neck, feel the heat in my cheeks, the blood rushing to my brain and overwhelming me. 

  I cut off another tentacle, praying this thing wasn't like they Hydra in any way. But eventually, Aragorn sliced the tentacle that held Frodo, Boromir catching the hobbit as he fell. 

"Into the mines!" Gandalf cried. I didn't need telling twice. I hauled my arse over there, and just as we all got inside, the creature managed to bring down some rocks, blocking the entrance to the mines and sending us into the darkness.

"Good thing I'm not afraid of the dark," I muttered aloud. "What about you, Penny? Are you afwaid of da mean old dark?" 

"Piss off, Carrie," she replied, annoyed. 

"Nah, I think I'll stay here for a while," I replied. "I mean, not only do I like annoying you, but it would appear the way out is blocked, and I can't see jack shit. And no, I'm not talking about you, brother of mine."

"Ha ha," Jack said grumpily.

"I thought so," I said. 

"Sshhh," Tommy said. He was waiting for Gandalf to say his lines, almost as though we were at our favourite show in a theatre. 

"We now have but one choice," Gandalf said, and suddenly, a light emitted from his staff. "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world."

"Yeah," I said. "Penny with no makeup."

"Shut _up_!" She hissed in reply.

"Quietly now," Gandalf said. "It's a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

----------@nd@®iel666----------

We'd been walking along for a while. Even with Gandalf's staff, it was still fairly dark. I discovered that as my fear mounted, my mood dropped rapidly. I was feeling sick, depressed and lonely. Lonely, you ask? Yes. Lonely. Tommy and Jack were off somewhere else entirely. Penny seemed to hover around Aragorn and Legolas a lot, and Legolas seemed to be sticking close to Gandalf. I was walking on my own. I normally walked on my own, don't get me wrong. But I'd grown used to having Tommy, Legolas or Boromir's company. Boromir seemed to stick with the hobbits a lot, and said hobbits stuck together as though someone had used superglue on their hips and shoved them together.

  I was numb, and I was feeling out of place. I normally walked around in black clothes, my hair left loose, wearing big galumphing boots, with my biggest weapon being a pocket-knife. Now I was wearing odd Elvish clothing, my hair back in a braid, in light trekking boots, and a sword at my hip. I felt like someone different, but not necessarily in a good way.

  I glanced to the side, and noticed a large spike sticking from a wall, a holder for a candle with deadly proportions. It only just caught the light of Gandalf's staff, and was then plunged into the darkness once more as he moved on. I ran a finger over its length, then touched the tip delicately. It was sharp.

  I didn't even think twice. I stepped closer to the wall and kept on walking. The pain was actually worse then I'd thought. I gave quick cry and leapt away. Gandalf turned and the light was upon me. I clutched my arm, feeling the blood trickle over my hand. I glanced in amazement at the spike, with the melted candle-wax in the cylindrical holder. 

  Legolas stepped closer and glanced at my arm, then at the spike. "It is rather deep," he said. "We must dress this wound."

"In a moment," I said, through gritted teeth. "Just walk a bit further. There's a clearing up ahead."

  They didn't question me, because by now they knew that I could 'tell the future'. So we moved on, with Legolas standing next to me this time.

  I was still shocked. I'd bargained on pain, yes. I'd wanted it. But I hadn't expected it to hurt so much. And now that I thought about it, I'd practically done it in front of everyone, including three members of my family. If they knew it had been self-inflicted, they didn't show it. I just lowered my head, my jaws clamped together painfully, and kept on walking.

  After some time of walking, we came to the clearing. It was like one of those puzzle games, where you have to choose from three passages. We all glanced around, wondering how, when we moved on, we might choose the right one. 

"I have no memory of this place," Gandalf said. 

  _Bloody brilliant, I thought sarcastically. _

  Everyone decided to mull about, doing there own thing and resting for a moment. Legolas led me over to sit on some broken pieces of stone. He removed some pieces of cloth from his quiver, apparently prepared for 'accidents' such as this. He carefully asked me to remove the outer layer of my tunic, and I obeyed, remaining the white under-layer. He rolled up the sleeve, and I saw the gash for the first time. If I'd been easily sickened by the sight of blood, I'd probably have thrown up over the handsome Elf before passing out. But luckily, all I felt was an overwhelming flush of shame and a tightening in my stomach. 

  Legolas gently used one of the pieces of cloth, soaked in some Elvish liquid taken from an animal-skin flask, to wipe away the blood clotted around the wound. I guessed it was alcohol, because my wound instantly began to sting. He slammed my eyes shut and screwed up my face, determined not to scream.

"_Amin hiraetha, melamin_," he said softly. "I must cleanse the wound to avoid infection."

  I nodded. "Sorry I'm making you waste your alcohol."

"Nay, not wasting it," he said. "Are you always this awkward?"

"Are you always this nice?" I shot back. "I think I prefer it when people are mean to me, at least I don't have to struggle to find something to say that won't offend them."

  _Nice one, Carrie, I thought darkly. I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Legolas. _Amin…amin hiraetha_, right?"_

  He smiled and nodded. "You learn quickly."

"I have no choice," I replied. Then I snorted. "Bloody hell, I'm turning into a right stroppy cow, aren't I?"

  He looked confused, but must have caught the general gist of my words. "From what you have spoken to me of, you are at odds. You have every right to feel 'stroppy'." He began wrapping one of the cloth pieces around my arm, telling me to stop moving it because my bicep was making life difficult. 

"Legolas?"

"_Uma_?"

"Would you tell me something of yourself?"

  He paused. "What do you wish to hear, _Lirimaer_?"

"I don't know – something. Anything."

  He finished tying up the makeshift bandage, and sat back more comfortably on the rock. For a moment, he was silent, and I was just about to apologise for asking when he said, "There were three babes born to my _atara_ and _atar_. My mother and father. The eldest was myself. Then came my brother, Corenian. My sister, Estrella, was the youngest. She wed an Elf from Rivendell, and when she did, it seemed that it split my family apart…"

  _Legolas watched his brother load his bow, setting an arrow at the ready. It had been often that they competed in archery contests, even though Corenian was nowhere near the skill of Legolas. However, since Estrella had departed to stay in Rivendell with her husband, things seemed to be falling apart at the seams. Legolas had known that Estrella was the one who ended a lot of fights and kept the two brothers at peace. But now she was gone._

_  Legolas had not had an archery contest with his brother since she had left 80 years ago. He had tried to coax his brother into it many a time, but Corenian would not have it. Legolas gave up after some time of asking. He knew Corenian was missing Estrella – he was, too. _

_  But Corenian had surprised him this day, requesting an archery contest. Legolas had quickly agreed. _

_  Not a word had been spoken since, and as Legolas watched his brother load the bow, he began to notice just how different they were. Legolas looked like his father – with his fair hair and his blue eyes. Corenian – and Estrella, come to think of it – looked like their mother, a Rivendell Elf, with their thick dark hair and dark blue eyes. He was like the odd one out – and he was also the oldest. Being the oldest meant one thing. He was in line for the throne. _

_  Corenian let the arrow fly, and to Legolas's surprise, it came within a fraction of the centre of the bullseye. _

_"Sai-quel very good," he commented, nodding his head. "You have been practicing in the time that has passed since our last match."_

_"But of course, toror' brother," Corenian replied, taking out another arrow and caressing it slightly. "You see, father has decided to enter me into the archery championships as well as yourself."_

_  Legolas felt his eyebrows shoot up. Certainly, he was pleased for his brother, but he was amazed. He had never thought Corenian to hold enough skill to enter such a championship tournament._

_  Corenian glanced at Legolas. "Surprised?"_

_"Pleased," Legolas said. "I am a trifle curious as to why father only chose to enter you now, after all this time, though."_

_  Corenian shook his head in a way that Legolas instantly knew was disdainful. This brought a frown to his face. "Oh, brother dear, you are ignorant and naïve, however many years you are my senior."_

_  Legolas felt heat flush into his cheeks. "Mani naa sina what is this?" He asked._

_  A rather dark grin crept over his brother's features. "You are entitled to the throne of Mirkwood, Legolas, but only because you are the eldest son. You are only in the archery contests because you have the most skill, and therefore you give Mirkwood a good name. But you are not father's favourite."_

_"Favouritism is not an issue in our household," Legolas said, trying to keep his voice steady._

_"Not explicitly, n'uma," Corenian said, cocking an eyebrow at his brother in a cruel way. "But you are not his favourite."_

_  Legolas felt shock swimming to his head, as though someone had released a flood into his mind. Was his father really choosing favourites? Why?_

_  Corenian seemed to read his mind. "You may look like our father, Legolas. But you act like our mother." He said this with a curl of his lip. "And we all know how much father hates our mother."_

_"Do not speak so harshly of our mother, toror'," Legolas said darkly. "She is a good woman."_

_"Yes, indeed," Corenian said, and gave a bark of laughter that seemed so unfamiliar for an Elf. "She is such a fine woman that she left our father for a Rivendell Elf."_

_"She was not happy with father," Legolas said, but inside he also felt a bit of pain at his mother's decision._

_"Thankfully, father never loved her. Or he might have died from a broken heart," Corenian continued, laying on the spite._

_"__Tampa__ stop!" Legolas cried. "Something has changed you, Corenian! Why are you being so?"_

_"Nay, not changed, brother," Corenian replied, and leaned in closer. "You just cannot stand that you are not the favourite. Estrella is here no more to mask the truth. You shall only be king because law bids that you be. But you always be in my shadow."_

  I gulped. My images of Legolas being like one of those models on the front of Vogue (in other words, perfect in every aspect) had been shaken when he had revealed a kinship to me. And now my visions of him having the perfect family were also knocked off the shelf. Corenian was like Penny in many aspects. In fact, Penny had created a scene almost exactly the same as the one Legolas had just told me of.

"We are not so different, Carrie," Legolas said, looking slightly out of focus, as though he was still trouncing through his memories. 

"I see that," I said, and I smiled. I realised for the first time that since Berry, I had found someone who was in the same boat. Only this time, it was different. Berry had no siblings, she did not know the pain of being the one excluded from the others. Legolas did. My smile grew wider, into such proportions that I began to imagine myself as a Grinch with overly pale skin and bad hair (or, should I say, _worse_ hair). I tried to break it down a little. "But you're close to your sister, right?"

  Legolas smiled. "When I get to see her, yes."

  I smiled. "I'm quite close to Tommy. Not many like him on first glance because, well, he doesn't have much shame…it's real fun dancing with him though. But then, I remember one dance in particular where he jumped back from me and knocked several other dancers over."

"Something scared him?" Legolas asked.

"Nope," I said, chuckling, my chuckles growing into laughter. "I think he was afraid he was gonna be knocked out by my nunga-nungas!"

  At Legolas's confused look, I managed to gesture to my chest amidst my laughter. His eyebrows hit the ceiling (not literally, that would have just been weird) before he too started laughing. It was odd, to hear an Elf laughing at such a crude thing. I realised then that the normal mortification following such an event as SH had been avoided, simply because someone seemed to be taking the time for me. I knew in the recesses of my mind that my body would scar, and that my upper arm would be disfigured. But none of that seemed to matter, as we laughed over the fact that I had quite big nunga-nungas. Seriously.

"Eh," Gandalf suddenly said loudly. "It's that way." 

"He's remembered!" Merry said.

"No," Gandalf admitted. "But the air does not smell so foul down here. If in doubt, Meriadoc, follow your nose."

  This made me chuckle some more. Gandalf would have a helluva time using that tack in Thalia's house – Thalia herself was as gassy as all of the Klumps put together. We moved on for a few moments, me thinking over some of the fun times I'd had with Thalia. She was like my opposite, but according to some tests I'd taken online once, that was a good thing – she brought to our relationship the optimism, and I brought the stability and sensibility.

"Let me risk a little more light," Gandalf said. The light got brighter, and we all gasped. There was a humongous hall – and I literally mean humongous. Godzilla could've probably have gotten lost in there – if he hadn't knocked himself out on the pillars first. "Behold the great realm of the Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf."

  My jaw must have been on the ground, because Legolas put a finger under my chin and pushed my jaws together with a chuckle. I squeaked, sounding like a chipmunk on speed. 

"There's an eye opener, make no mistake," Sam said, awed. I glanced around, too stunned by the sheer size and greatness to do anything but squeak in a demented, rather idiotic way.

"Wow, imagine if a Primark opened up here," Penny said. 

"No," Jack said. "A computer fair."

"Nope," Tommy said with a grin. "Imagine this being a big lake, filled with carp, bream, and any other cool fish ripe for fishing!"

"Hell yeah!" I said, and we brought our knuckles together in a rather manly way. The others all watched us, looking somewhere between amusement and fear.

"Oh, come on," I said. "Surely you all think fishing is a good idea?"

"If you say so, young one," Boromir chuckled. I sighed. 

"Come," Legolas said with a smile. "Let us move on."


	14. Orcs, A Cave Troll And The Balrog

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed, it's been great! If I'm not mistaken, I think this might be my longest chapter yet lol. I hope you enjoy, please R&R!

  ~*~Andariel666~*~

"…then mum swung the rod, and the hook almost got stuck in dad's head! It narrowly missed it," I said. I'd been talking about fishing for god knows how long. I was feeling quite exhilarated, not only at talking about something I like, but because Legolas hadn't got bored and clocked me one round the head yet. 

"Uhhh, Carrie," Jack started.

"Hmmm?"

"Don't – " He stared, but he didn't have time. SMACK.

"Bloody bollocks!" I cried, jumping back. I'd just walked into one of the pillars. I heard the childish giggles and glared. "Oh, sod off," I groaned, my eyes watering.

"That's your payback for letting me walk into the post at Hastings," Penny said.

"Not my fault you were too thick to see it yourself," I retorted. "And now look, my nose is bleeding. Perfect. If it's broken, I'll officially kill myself – as if it wasn't a weird shape already."

  Legolas checked it, looking serious but at the same time, I noticed the mirth behind his eyes. "Oh, just hurry up and laugh," I told him. "I know you want to."

  He grinned. "It is not broken."

   I frowned, and rubbed it. "I guess I should look where I'm goin' then."

"It would be a good idea," Boromir piped up. I almost flipped him off, but I kept control, and said, "Right, let's go."

  We walked on a couple of paces. I doubled back to stand next to Tommy. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, _mi hermano_."

"Hmm, kinda," he confessed. "I mean, it's more like a real version of playing Halo. Only without the guns. And the suits. And I'm not playing against my son."

"So, really, it's not like Halo at all," I said, and he nodded, looking confused. I glanced over at Legolas. Gathering my confidence, I darted forward, wrapping my arms around his arm, as though for a hug. He looked surprised, but didn't shake me off, like I thought he might do – I was glad he didn't shake me off as though I were a poodle going at his leg. Eurgh, damn poodles (A/N: As you may have noticed, I don't like poodles lol).

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked quietly.

"_Uma_," he replied.

"What is 'I love you, my brother' in Elvish?"

  He raised an eyebrow, but said, "_Amin mela lle, toror'amin_."

"Thanks," I said.

"Would you rather not tell him in your native language?" Legolas asked.

  I considered the answer. "See, thing with Tommy is that he's unpredictable – if I tell him I love him, I never know if he'll say the same back, or if he'll laugh at me. I'd rather he didn't do that, seeing as how he's the closest I'll ever come to an actual brother. At least, if I tell him this way…" I trailed off, not because I'd run out of things to say, but because the look Legolas was giving me was confusing. It was a mixture of recognition, sadness, surprise, and many other things…so many things. I thought…no, I couldn't have seen _that there. Not possible._

"What's wrong?" I asked, unnerved by the look.

  He shook himself. "It is nothing. _Amin hiraetha, melamin_. You…merely reminded me of someone."

"Oh," I said, confused.

  Suddenly, Gimli paused, causing everyone else to stop as well. Realising what this meant, I let go of Legolas and stepped backwards quickly so that I was between Jack and Tommy. "Show time," I muttered quietly. They both nodded. 

  Gimli was staring at a doorway that was littered with dead bodies. He instantly took off, running towards the chamber.

"Gimli!" Gandalf cried, but the Dwarf paid no heed. Sighing, everyone ran after him. 

  Gimli had stopped in front of a stone sarcophagus in the middle of the room. "No! Oh, no! No…" He had sunk to his knees, weeping. I stared from him to the sarcophagus, then at the dead bodies around the room. The smell was rancid – I wanted to gag. 

  Gandalf stepped up to the sarcophagus and read from the Dwarvish on the lid. "'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.' He is dead then. It is as I feared." He handed Pippin his staff and his hat – the young hobbit looking at them with slight confusion. The rest of us just stood off to one side, looking on with embarrassment or indifference. Gimli was quietly muttering a prayer in a language I presumed to be Dwarvish. It's all Greek to me. Ha ha.

  Legolas turned to Aragorn, a slight worry in his eyes. "We must move on. We cannot linger." _I hear ya, I thought. __Unfortunately, staying is inevitable. Or is it? I seemed to be forgetting my position of the knowing fool – the key word being 'knowing' (you thought I was gonna say fool then, didn't ya?). I knew what would happen – I could stop it. I most definitely could. _

  Gandalf was reading from a tome. "'They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming.'"

  I was looking for Pippin but, since he was so short, it was hard to see him, especially because his cloak blended in well. When I finally spotted him, he was studying a skeleton that was resting precariously on a sort of well. I started forward, and gripped his wrist before he could touch it. "Not a good idea, darlin'," I said quietly. Just then, Merry backed into the well, and as he spun around – he knocked the skeleton. It fell back into the well with a clatter of bones, also dragging a bucket with it, adding to the din, giving off noise as it fell all the way down, making the Fellowship jump.

"Well," I said darkly, anger and desperation rising up inside me. "Go figure." Some things obviously just couldn't be avoided. 

"Fool of a Brandybuck!" Gandalf snapped, closing the tome. "Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity."

"That's a bit harsh," I said quietly. Gandalf was about to retort to my comment when drumming noises made all of us look around. Frodo unsheathed his sword part way, and revealed a blade that was glowing blue. 

"Frodo!" Sam gasped.

"Orcs," Legolas said, all business. 

"I never would've guessed," I muttered under my breath, unsheathing my own sword. Legolas must have heard me, because he cast a brief look back at me. It wasn't annoyed. In fact, it seemed to reflect the odd look he'd given me back before Gimli's mourning. The look made me think the Death Test I took online was true – I was most definitely going to die of confusion (if alcoholism didn't kill me first, according to the results. I have much to look forward to). 

  Boromir ran to the door and peeked out. Two arrows narrowly missed his head, nearly skewering him like he was a cocktail sausage. Niiceeee…

"Stay back!" Aragorn called to the hobbits. "Stay close to Gandalf!"

  They got the doors closed and Boromir said wryly, "They have a cave troll."

  Tommy and Jack helped barricade the doors, as I noticed my sister, standing there and shaking, looking lost. Not so perfect now, I thought viciously, before shaking myself. "Penny!" She glanced at me, wide-eyed. "Get a weapon from one of the bodies!"

  She looked a little disgusted at the thought, but the small portion of her brain that actually worked registered that without one, she'd be dead before she even started. She removed an axe from one of the cobweb-covered bodies, almost dropping it due to the weight. I rolled my eyes – I'd have to try and defend her arse as well as my own.

  After the men had barricaded the doors, they all stood back, facing them, weapons at the ready. My heart was pounding. This was it. It felt like – well, when you play a computer game, and you know a particularly nasty part is coming up. Only in computer games, you can restart again. We couldn't. This thought alone had me wanting to curl into a ball and pretend I was dead. 

  Gimli, standing atop Balin's sarcophagus, said, "Let them come! There is one dwarf yet in Moria that still draws breath!"

  _Let's hope it lasts, I thought, holding my sword at the ready and trying to remember my training. _

  The banging at the door suddenly gave way, as the doors flew open, and in came the ugliest bastards I'd ever seen – and I'd seen myself in the morning. I hadn't thought there could be any worse a sight. 

  As they charged in, I let instinct take over. I spun in an arc, swing the blade. The orc hadn't been expecting it, apparently, and his head hit the floor with a smack. The next one lunged with its axe, and I barely had time to bring the sword up to block the attack. The orc snarled in my face, its breath making me wonder if I'd turned green like in those cartoons. I swung a quick drop-kick, and the orc stumbled back slightly, surprised. I swung my blade, this time with the orc blocking. I continued onward, me slashing and him blocking. I was beginning to get bored. So I made out as though to get him, and when he went to block, I hit the ground, rolled to the side, and thrust upwards. My sword went through the ribcage, and as I pulled it out, all kinds of gross gore was on the end. As the orc's body hit the ground, I wiped my blade on its loincloth. 

  Just then, the biggest muthafucker I'd ever seen came through the doors, roaring and lumbering like a bear with a sore head. The cave troll. I barely had time to call out, "Hey, Pen, looks like you found a mirror then!" before two orcs ran at me at once. "_Fuck me_!" I cried. Then added, "Eurgh, not literally though," swinging my sword between their blades. As I dropped back and ducked due to a nasty attempt to snick off my head, I said, "Now, boys, do you really think two on one is fair?" As they redoubled the attack, I just sighed. "Guess you do then." And at that, I gave it my all. I wasn't a martial artist, but I was quite supple and spry, so it didn't take much to imitate some of the moves. The first thing I did was run forward and feint a thrust with my sword, making the first orc back up. Then I spun 360 degrees and angled a rather high kick at the other orc, pulling several muscles in the process. "Ow," I mumbled. The good thing being that I caught the ugly bastard in the face, and he stumbled back. I ran him through quickly, and pulled the sword out, bringing it round to block the other orc's attack.

"Thought you had me there, eh?" I snickered. I was amazed at how well I was actually doing – and that I wasn't cowering in a corner, pissing myself. Unfortunately, my self-praising knocked me off guard for a moment, and the orc knocked my sword from my hand and gave me a firm backhander across the face. "Argh!" I cried out, pain erupting from my face. But I had to consider the predicament I was in. So I backed up, then, thinking quickly, I started hopping up and down. "Quick!" I said to it. "Tell me where the bathroom is, this one's a demon I tell ya, a _demon!!!_"

  It gave me a confused look, and I took this little moment as I jumped up to shove with all my might. The orc tripped over a dead body and landed flat on its arse, shaking its head in confusion and annoyance. I dropped into a backwards roly-poly (courtesy of my strict PE teacher Mrs Landis) and grabbed my blade before sliding forward on my knees on the blood-slicked floor (gross, I know) and slammed my blade down into its stomach. 

"Aragorn! Aragorn!"

  I glanced up, surprised, to see the troll dragging Frodo off. Before I could even register it, I felt a presence behind me (amazingly, all it is is where I feel a tingling up my spine and a slight compression on the back of my spine, and it was always right – there was always something behind me) and I quickly turned. It was a good thing I did – where my upper body twisted as well, it was moved out of the way of the blade that now barely zinged just below my breast, tearing some of my tunic as it went, exposing a patch of Casper-white skin. I stared at it in amazement, and as the sword was retracted, I lay on my back, brought my knees to my chin, and kicked out. The orc stumbled back, and I got to my feet messily, slipping and sliding in the claret on the floor. The orc was ready for me – he sliced his blade, and though I jumped back, he still caught me slightly, giving me a nasty, painful scratch from my left collarbone down to the top of my breast on the right side. I didn't check for blood though, as I had to quickly duck and dodge numerous fast attacks from the blade. _Oh shit oh shit oh shit, I thought. __This is it. I'm gonna die of stab wounds, not confusion or alcoholism._

  Just as I thought this, the tip of an arrow appeared through the orc's throat, splattering me with a bit of blood. As it slumped to the floor, I saw Legolas with his bow still drawn and ready. I wondered what to say, and I said the first thing that came to mind. "Thanks, _melamin_!" Okay, so I wasn't aware what the word meant, but still, if it was a nice word, then he'd understand.

  His eyes widened slightly, and he looked ready to say something, when Merry and Pippin both roared and jumped onto the troll's back. I knew what this meant. Frodo had been stabbed by the troll. I could hear Sam shouting Frodo's name.  I saw my brothers and sister – Jack was defending Penny, so they were both alive. Tommy was kicking butt – he was well and truly good at it. He was giving it his all, and he was taking the orcs down. I grinned.

  Legolas lined up an arrow carefully, and let it fly. It caught the troll in the back of the throat. It teetered about, as though drunk, and everyone stepped back, not wanting to be squashed under it. Eventually, it hit the ground, stone cold dead.

  Everyone ran over to Frodo, where Aragorn was turning him over.

"He's alive!" Sam gasped. I grinned.

"I'm alright," Frodo said. "I'm not hurt."

"You should be dead," Aragorn said, confused. "That spear would have skewered a boar." 

"Hear that, Jack?" I said, nudging him. "That could have skewered you!"

  Tommy laughed, but was silenced by a deadly look from our darling brother. "Ahem, I mean, that was a very immature comment, Carolina, how could you."

"I think there's more to this hobbit then meets the eye," Gandalf said, a smile on his face.

  Frodo glanced down, brushing various layers of material aside to reveal some silvery material that shimmered, reminding me of a dress I once owned that got blown up by a car exhaust and flashed my kacks to the whole street. Oh, the shame.

"Mithril!" Gimli gasped. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins!"

  Legolas placed his fingers gently on my wound and removed them, staring at the blood. 

"It's fine," I said, taking deep breaths to calm myself after the adrenaline of the battle. "I always bleed a lot, whether from paper-cuts or grazes."

  Suddenly, the noises of more Orcs approaching attracted our attention. 

"To the bridge of Khazad-dûm!" Gandalf cried.

  We ran. We ran as best as we could, out of the chamber and trying to make it across the stone halls, dodging the pillars. But it was no good. Orcs and goblins were climbing down the pillars and running in the shadows. They soon had us surrounded.

  We stood in the middle of the circle, vastly outnumbered but with our weapons raised. I might have been deadly afraid if I didn't know what would happen next, so I just stood, breathing hard, holding onto my sword for dear life, looking at the ugly creatures surrounding us. "Contrary to popular belief," I said, "this is not good." I earned a few confused looks, but then, I'd confused myself with that comment. It had just popped into my head and out of my mouth. I seemed to be good at confusing things.

  A rumbling sound distracted us, and at the end of the hallway, we could see a red, fiery glow flickering on the walls. The orcs and goblins gave off frightened little squeals, backing up and running away. Legolas lowered his bow, as everyone turned to stare at the red flickers on the wall. 

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked. Gandalf was about to lower his head to determine the answer to that question, but I grew impatient.

"Why don't I save us all time so that we can run for our lives," I said wryly. "It's a Balrog, a demon of the ancient world. Now come _on!"_

"Run," Gandalf agreed, and we ran. Oh yes, did we run. We came to a flight of stairs, and I tripped slightly, hitting my knee painfully on one of the steps. Jack grabbed my forearm and hauled me up, and we ran together up to the top, before turning back.

"Quickly," Aragorn said to Gandalf, who was dawdling. "Gandalf!"

"Lead them on, Aragorn," Gandalf said. "The bridge is near." He pushed Aragorn away from him. "Do as I say! Swords are no more use here."

  Everyone moved on, running to the bridge. I'd probably never done so much running in my life. We ran across the bridge, pausing when we saw a gap in the rock. The bridge was in two halves.

  Legolas jumped over the break easily, standing at the ready to help everyone else across. 

"Gandalf!" I said, gesturing to him. He glanced at me, and he must have seen that I was dreading the next part. He gave me a slight smile, before jumping across the break, helped over by Legolas. 

  Boromir turned to me, probably to get me to jump next, but I refused. "The hobbits," I said.

"Merry! Pippin!" Boromir called. He held one in each arm, before jumping over with the both of them – Legolas once again helping them across, and some of the bridge crumbled away. Arrows had begun to fly at us, as Orcs were hiding in crevices in the walls. Legolas shot arrows skilfully, wiping some of them out instantly, his aim so perfect it seemed ridiculous.

  Aragorn tossed Sam across the gap to join the rest, and my brothers soon jumped across – Tommy on his own, Jack holding onto Penny. 

"Nobody tosses a Dwarf," Gimli said, and I had to chuckle at that one. That was too good to let slip. He tried to jump the gap, and almost fell into the chasm, but Legolas reached out with lightning fast reflexes, grabbing the Dwarf's beard.

"Argh, not the beard!" Gimli cried. Legolas pulled him up properly. I was watching with wide eyes, not really paying attention. I felt as if my mind was floating out of my body, like an OBE – an out-of-body experience. 

"Carrie!" Legolas cried, reaching out his hand. I shook my head, wincing. I hate heights. I hate them very much. But at the same time, I knew I had to. And briefly, the playful part of my mind was hoping Legolas would catch me. So I took a running jump.

  Legolas did indeed catch me, and it was every bit as good as I imagined. He smelled like freshly cut grass on a summer's day, and like the scent that rain leaves after it's gone away.  I quickly backed up, stepping back so that Aragorn and Frodo could make their way across.

  The stone they were standing on was swaying, broken away and disturbed. I was quite impressed to see them leaning this way and that, to control the direction of the broken part of the bridge. They leaned it so that it connected with the part that the rest of the Fellowship were standing on, making it safely across and actually reforming the bridge. 

"Come on! Now!" Legolas said.

"Over the bridge. Fly!" Gandalf ordered. _Flying would certainly make things easier, I thought darkly. But I ran with the others all the same, stopping only to haul Penny along, as she was moving with a painfully slow sprint. _

  It was then that I realised that Gandalf was not running with us. I stopped and turned back, to see Gandalf standing in the middle of the bridge. There was the Balrog. It was big, really big. And it looked like a black version of how I imagined the Minotaur to be, only much bigger. It spat fire, it breathed fire – fire seemed to come from its very pores. It held a whip in its hands.

"Kinky," I heard Tommy mutter, as he appeared next to me.

"I'm proud of you," I said to him. "You're learning well, my child."

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf cried. It was then that I remembered – I could either tell Gandalf to remain vigilant, or I could let the Balrog drag him under. I frowned.

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried, and the others stopped, realising that I had already stopped, and was watching the scene unfolding before me.

"What are we gonna do?" Tommy asked.

"I don't know," I confessed.

  The Balrog attempted to get Gandalf with his whip, but it merely struck the protective shield around the Istar. 

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor! The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun! Arrghh! Go back to the Shadow!! YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!"

  He slammed the end of his staff into the bridge, and part of it broke, tipping the Balrog into the chasm. I was about to yell out, when a realisation hit me. If this didn't happen, Gandalf wouldn't become Gandalf the White. He wouldn't be able to save King Théoden, he wouldn't save Merry and Pippin in Fangorn…it would just mess everything up. Realising this, I knew I had to risk the others' anger if I was to save them all. I had to be cruel to be kind. 

  So I said to my siblings, "_No diga nada. No me pregunte. Algo usted dice quizás cause un cambio dramático para el futuro. Esté apenas tranquilo_." I knew they didn't understand Spanish, but they certainly understood my tone of voice. They all looked at me with wonder, but didn't have time to question my judgement. Gandalf had let his guard slip. The Balrog's whip wrapped around his ankle and pulled him down. He grabbed onto the edge of the bridge.

  Frodo ran forward to try to get to Gandalf, but Boromir held him back. 

"_Gandalf_!!!" The young hobbit yelled, distraught.

  Gandalf looked at me, and the look in his eyes said it all. He knew. He knew what would happen, he knew the choice I had made. And in his eyes, he was congratulating me, praising me. I could have sworn I heard his voice in my mind, saying, _you are learning, young one. _

"Fly, you fools!" He said, then he let go. He fell down into the chasm. 

"NO! NO!" Frodo screamed, as he was carried away by Boromir. Even though I knew in my heart that I had done right, it didn't stop my heart wrenching. I had made a decision that would put me on the bad side either way. 

  I turned and ran after the rest of the Fellowship.

"Aragorn!" Boromir called. Aragorn was still staring into the chasm. The Ranger turned and ran back, and we all ran together.

*

  We soon emerged from the Mines, into the bright snowy mountains. It stung my eyes, and I stumbled slightly, before glancing down. My tunic was ripped and soaked with blood. My face hurt badly from the firm backhander, and my leggings were sticking to my legs from skidding across the bloodied floor. I was a mess, pure and simple. 

  The grieving was finally catching up with them. Sam sat down on a rock, head in hands as he wept. Boromir was holding a fighting Gimli back, as though the Dwarf was trying to re-enter the mines. Merry and Pippin were comforting each other. 

  Legolas was standing off from everyone else, a look of disbelief and sadness on his face. My siblings were huddled together: Jack was frowning, Tommy had a sad but accepting expression, one I had seen too many times before, and Penny was shaking and crying softly. 

  I just felt empty. I knew this wasn't the end, but that didn't matter. It's the same as knowing that someone is dying in advance – you know they were on their way to death, but that didn't soften the blow at all. 

"You," a voice said. I glanced down at Frodo. His eyes were filled with tears, some spilling over onto his cheeks. Those big blue eyes were filled with anger. "You knew. You know _everything_. Why did you not save him? You could have _saved_ him!" His voice was rising, causing everyone to look our way.

"I had to let it happen," I said, my voice coming out scratchy as tears started to nestle along my bottom lid. "I _had to."_

"Why?!" Frodo cried. "We _need_ him! And now he's gone, because of _you_! You could have saved him…"

"Frodo," Aragorn said gently. I noticed everyone staring at me.

  I made sure that everyone knew that I was aiming this at all of them, and I said, "Trust me when I tell you that he will be back."

"That is not possible," Gimli roared. "Did you not see what happened back in those mines, girl?!"

"I did and I knew it would happen before it even occurred," I replied heatedly, my own voice raising. "As Frodo here said, I know everything that will be happening on this mission, I have from the first. _Please believe me when I say that this is not the end. Mithrandir _will_ return." The urge to cry was almost too much, but I widened my eyes (for some reason this clears my tears away) and turned away. _

  Aragorn lowered his head, and the uncomfortable silence that had only the soft sounds of the other three hobbits and my sister weeping was broken when he said, "Legolas, get them up."

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir cried.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs," Aragorn replied bluntly. "We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Come Boromir. Legolas, Gimli, Tommy, Jack, get them up."

  I barely noticed as they gathered the mourners together to start towards Lothlorien. I was too busy trying not to cry. They were colder towards me now, most definitely. I was wounded, some of it inflicted by myself to myself, some of accidental, some of it from battle. The pain was almost overwhelming, but not as bad as the pain in my head, or the lump in my throat. I felt I had made a mistake, no matter how much my mind told me it was right.

"Frodo! Frodo!" Aragorn called. I turned slightly to see that Frodo had been walking away from the group. The Ringbearer stopped, then turned around. His big blue eyes still held the tears, and one gently slipped down his cheek.

  One of my own mirrored it. 

A/N: What Carrie says on the Bridge of Khazad-Dûm is: "Do not say anything. Do not question me. Anything you say might cause a dramatic change for the future. Just be still."


	15. Lothlorien, Part 1: Fly Away From Here

A/N: Thanks so much to all who reviewed, I love you!! Right, here we go:

Kitta-Boo: A sequel?? I haven't even finished this one yet!!

Bianca: Whip me with a wet noodle lol. Anyways, 'melamin' means 'my love' and 'lirimaer' means 'lovely one'.

Honey Bee33: I'm glad you like Robbie! What's your fave songs of his then? In this chapter, I use some of his song Come Undone at the end. I love his songs Eternity, No Regrets, Let Love Be Your Energy, Angels, and Feel. So, if anyone wants to try him out, I'd definitely recommend him. He's one of the best things to come out of Britain.

Lucky Stars 07:  Cliffhangers, eh? You ent seen nothin' yet, darlin'! lol.

  Enjoy the chapter! This is the first of a two-part thingy. R&R!

  ~*~Andariel666~*~

I've been walkin' these streets at night

Just tryin' to get it right

It's hard to see with so many around

You know I don't like

Being stuck in the crowd

And the streets don't change

But baby the names

I ain't got time for the game

´Cause I need you

Yeah, yeah but I need you

Oooh, I need you

Whoa, yeah I need you 

Oooh, all this time (Ahhh)

 - Guns N' Roses, Patience

  We'd stopped for the night along the way to Lothlorien – we'd stopped in a dense little thicket of trees and shrubbery. It was cold, and we could only risk a very small fire in case of Orcs and crebain. 

  No one – aside from Tommy – had spoken to me. I told myself that it didn't matter – I'd saved their arses, so I'd done my part. Sure, I was repaid with the silent treatment, but hey. I'd done what I promised I'd do, whether they believed it or not. 

  Then why did I feel so shitty?

  Maybe it was because Legolas was one of the ones who'd kept away from me. The others I could handle. Penny and Jack had never really been all that chatty to me anyway – unless, of course, I suddenly became the agony aunt with a lot of time on her hands. 

  When we'd stopped, I moved away a little and say cross-legged on the ground, removing my tarot deck. Time for a reading. I wanted to know what lay in store for me, even though I knew it would probably be less than satisfactory. 

  I decided to tackle the Celtic Cross spread, one I found quite hard sometimes. So I removed my significator (the card to represent myself) – choosing my star-sign. The Star card represented me, since I was an Aquarius. I lay it down in front of me, then shuffled my cards, wanting to do a general reading – I had so many questions that to pick one would be impossible. I closed my eyes, and cleared my mind. I shuffled, focusing on the deck. When I felt I'd shuffled enough, I felt for the cut and split the deck, putting the bottom on the top. 

  I lay the first card down.

"This covers me," I whispered. It was The Hermit.

"This crosses me." The Empress reversed.

"This crowns me." Justice.

"This is beneath me." The 4 of Swords reversed.

"This is behind me." The 7 of Cups.

"This is before me." The 10 of Wands.

"This is the Self." The Knight of Swords.

"This is the Home." Temperance reversed.

"This is my Hopes and Fears." The 5 of Swords.

"This is my outcome." The Death Card.

  I studied them, and tried to deduce a meaning. I had a good feeling about this reading – I normally felt like that when it was a good reading. Right, I thought. Here goes.

  The covering is the present, and it was warning me to be prudent and keep my wits about me. 

  The crossing is the obstacles, and it was telling me that I was blocked by tyranny and emotional blackmail. 

  The crown is the best that can be achieved, and it mentioned good judgement and the righting of a wrong. 

  The 'beneath me' is the past, and it mentioned exile, confinement and depression.

  The 'behind me' is the near past coming to an end. This mentioned that I had to make an important decision and choose carefully, because there were many possible opportunities. Gandalf…

 The 'before me' is the future. It mentioned heavy duties being shouldered on behalf of others, even at high prices of anxiety and illness. Eek.

  The Self meant that I was greatly affected by a man who was confident and easily bored, who drifted into one's life and just as quickly drifted out. Probably Tommy.

  The Home showed that there was a lot of domestic strife and arguments in the family. No shit.

  The Hopes and Fears revealed that I feared failure and loss.

  And my outcome was the Death Card.

"You just keep cropping up," I said, smiling. The Death card is the misunderstood card, and that's why I loved it. It very rarely means Death, and mostly means great transformations that are harsh but inevitable and for the best. "So I'm gonna have change," I commented. "Any worse than what's happened already?" After all, I'd been thrown into Middle Earth.

  I packed the cards away with a frown. The reading was sinfully accurate from what I could tell – perhaps the powers of perception were heightened here, in this fairytale land where people were brave and bold and too judgemental.

  I sighed and shifted, putting my back against a rock. I hung my head, staring at the hands that were resting on my raised knees. I was alienated, shunned, probably disliked. Hated, even. Did they listen to me about Gandalf? No. I told them he'd be back. They didn't care.

  We were headed to Lothlorien, where god knows what would happen. I had given up on trying to see what lay ahead, because the thoughts of all the things I had to do were terrifying. I wondered how far I really had to go with this before I was set free. How far I had to walk, how many Orcs I had to kill, how much of my soul I had to give away. There were too many questions.

"_Melamin_?"

  I said nothing. I didn't want to hurt Legolas, but then, I didn't want to hurt a lot of people in my life – but I had. And my temper always had this brilliant little habit of running away from me, as though it were an entirely separate entity that could take over me at will. So I remained staring at my hands, not moving. 

  I didn't look up, but I felt him sit next to me. I felt his shoulder touch mine, he was so close. It was maddening. But still I did nothing. 

  I was fairly surprised when he didn't say anything. In fact, I felt partly annoyed – if he was going to come over here to say something, he should at least say it. After ignoring me for practically the whole fucking day, he at least owed me that. I studied my fingernails as if they were the most interesting things in the world. They were very odd – on my left hand, the nails were bitten right down. On my right hand, the nails were long, and slightly jagged. Guitarist's hands. I hated using a plectrum, so I kept my nails long – but I never filed them. In fact, I rarely did anything I didn't have to do to make myself any more feminine then nunga-nungas, plucked eyebrows and the usual little womanly essentials did. 

  I wasn't what you'd generally call a lady. 

  Eventually, unnerved by his presence, I said, "Did you come here for a reason?" As soon as I said it, I cursed myself. But I couldn't take it back, and I very rarely apologise – stupid, I know, but it's part of my pride.

"_Amin dele ten' lle_," he replied softly.

"I don't speak Elvish," I said, frustrated.

"_Amin hiraetha_," he said. "I am worried about you. It is wrong for everyone to neglect you." 

"Being alone is sort of nice, really," I replied. When I get annoyed, my speech drastically improves – whereas if I were to normally speak, it would be shown as 'Cor, 'e ent really gonna do that, is 'e? He's really ment'l, innee?" So basically, sounding like a pirate all drugged up on rum. But when I'm annoyed, it seems to improve and come out more prim and proper. I was annoyed right now. "You take the time to appreciate yourself and your amazingly good judgement."

  He sighed. "It is not that they do not appreciate your judgement, _Lirimaer. They are merely confused and startled by it. Allowing Mithrandir to fall…"_

"Have _none_ of you listened to what I've been telling you?" I hissed, my voice raising, realising that they probably hadn't been listening to me at all. "He will return, I _swear it – I __know it. I had to do this, or it will change things for the worse. Maybe whoever brought me here should have left me back home to rot away in peace."_

"You are not rotting away, Carrie," he said quietly.

  I turned to glare at him. "I'm mortal, Legolas. From the moment mortals are born, they're slowly rotting, slowly dying."

  He flinched. I felt tears start to well again. I didn't want to hurt him – I really didn't. I glanced off to the distance. "I wish things could have been different. I wish I could just sprout wings from my back and fly away from here. Far away…"

  I could sense his shock as though it were my own. I turned to him, confused. He was looking at me as though I were a ghost. The moonlight already made him pale, but I could tell some of his colour had drained away.

  I looked to the ground.

"_You gotta find a way_

_Yeah, I can't wait another day_

_Ain't nothin' gonna change_

_If we stay around here_

_Gotta do what it takes_

_Cuz it's all in our hands_

_We all make mistakes_

_Yeah, but it's never to late to start again (yeah yeah)_

_Take another breath_

_And say another prayer_

_And fly away from here_

_Anywhere_

_Yeah, I don't care_

_We'll just fly away from here_

_Our hopes and dreams_

_Are out there somewhere_

_Won't let time pass us by_

_We'll just fly_

_If this life_

_Gets any harder now_

_It ain't no nevermind_

_You got me by your side_

_And anytime you want _

_Yeah we can catch a train_

_And find a better place_

_Yeah, cuz we won't let nothin'_

_or no one keep gettin' us down_

_maybe you and I_

_Can pack our bags and hit the sky_

_And fly away from_

_Anywhere_

_Yeah, I don't care_

_We'll just fly away from here our hopes and dreams_

_Are out there somewhere_

_Won't let time pass us by_

_We'll just fly_

_Do you see a bluer sky now?_

_You can have a better life now_

_Open your eyes_

_Cuz no one here can ever stop us_

_They can try but we won't let them_

_No way-ay-ay-ah_

_Maybe you and I_

_Can pack our bags and say goodbye_

_And fly away from here_

_Anywhere_

_Honey I don't care_

_We'll just fly away from here_

_Our hopes and dreams_

_Are out there somewhere_

_Fly away from here _

_Yeah anywhere_

_Honey, I don't I don't I don't fly (yeah)_

_We'll just fly…_" (Aerosmith, Fly Away From Here)

  I stopped singing. Oh, to fly away… "But then," I said. "Even if I did want to fly away, I couldn't. I made a promise to Frodo that I have to keep."

  I turned to the Elf. He was looking at the ground, and though he looked neutral, I knew I had hurt him. "I'm sorry if I upset you," I said. "I just don't see how I can help any of you if you won't trust me." With that, I placed a kiss on his cheek before turning away from him, lying on my side and resting my head on the mossy ground, bidding sleep to come and remove the unease from my bones and the tears from my eyes.

----------@nd@®iel666----------

  Walking to Lothlorien the next day was spent in silence on my part. Everyone seemed to have somewhere to be but me. Jack and Penny were talking in hushed tones. The hobbits stuck together with Boromir close by in case of emergency, talking to Tommy about battle strategies. Legolas was with Aragorn.

  I figured he hadn't forgiven me for my little hissy-fit the night before. I tried to tell myself it didn't matter, but in reality, it hurt like hell. I felt as though I'd tainted something pure, like I had when I'd cut my skin with the pocket knife. I'd spent half the morning with tears in my eyes, but I never let them fall.

  They'd left my eyes now, but I still felt the lingering sadness. 

"I've forgotten what happens next."

  Jack was standing beside me, looking like any other mortal man of Middle Earth. Not looking as though he spent hours a day in front of a machine god knows how many thousands of years advanced to this world. 

"Lothlorien," I whispered. "Galadriel shows Frodo the mirror, and we leave to go to Amon Hen."

"Loosely translated as: the breaking of the Fellowship," he whispered back. We were trying to be as quiet as possible, so as not to alert Legolas's keen ears.

"Mmmm-hmmm," I nodded. "Time's beginning to pass quickly – one can only wonder exactly how long we have to actually be here."

  He nodded. "Don't I know it. I was up to a good point in that game – I need to get back there." 

"Is that all you care about?" I asked darkly. "America's fucking Army?? So you're worried about an online shoot-em-up. What about our parents, hmmm? Don't you want to see _them_?"

"Of course I do," he glared. "And don't accuse me of being the only one mistaking my values, Carrie. I seem to remember you sacrificing many a family gathering to lock yourself away in your room."

  God, I hated that look on his face. The sneer, as he looked at me as though I were an annoying bluebottle buzzing around his head. "Hmmm, yes, our similarities certainly prove we're related," I drawled. "What? Does that surprise you, that I'm your sister? Here you were thinking I was a piece of shit on the bottom of your shoe. Oh, whoop-tee-fucking-doo."

  He stopped suddenly, turning to face me. The Fellowship had heard our raised voices and were no doubt rolling there eyes, waiting for the latest family argument to hurry up and end. "And that's what you see, is it, dear sister? Everything's just so easy for you, isn't it? Everything's just black and white, no shades of grey in between!"

"Well I'm sorry, maybe if you told me why you _hate me so much, I'd be able to change my bloody canvas!" I yelled in reply._

  He blinked at me. "Hate you? I don't…"

"Then please tell me why you have to treat me as though I'm nothing. You used to _like_ me, you used to at least _smile_ at me – now I'm lucky if you even _look_ at me." I'd been waiting to say it for so long. To gather the courage to ask him to his face. And now that I had, I was afraid – afraid of what his answer would be. 

  He stared at me for a few moments, before he said, "Do you remember when you were at that village school, after we moved? Do you?"

"Of course I do," I frowned.

"Then you remember that everyone in the school was poisoned against you. They used and abused you, and you were forced into your own little shell, where you hated everyone – especially yourself."

  I nodded. I remembered that well. When my so-called best friend turned everyone against me. I'd been shut out, much worse than the Fellowship had shut me out after Gandalf's falling. I'd become so bad that I dropped out. I'd become a drop-out at nine years old. 

"You wouldn't let anyone touch you," Jack continued. "You wouldn't talk to anyone without this really cold look in your eyes. You cut everyone down as though they were weeds obscuring your view of your own little garden of self pity. And you know what? You've never been the same since. You aren't trusting any more – you aren't carefree."

"What does this have to do with anything?" I asked, numbed to have my faults thrust into my face by anyone else other than myself so blatantly. 

"_Everything_," Jack said, and for the first time in a long time, I saw emotion behind his eyes. "I thought she loved me. I thought I'd found something in this lonely life to hang on to. But she used me. And she abused me. I'd risked everything for her – my job, my family. My friends…"

  _Mark. I flinched._

"No, make that _friend_. Singular. I only had one true mate, and I shit all over him. And my family didn't treat me the same – and I know that it's partially my fault. Not only did I ignore everyone's warnings, but I also turned nasty because they wouldn't accept my choices. Especially…to you. You were always there…when Mark was dying; you were the one who came to hug me. When you were in need, it was me you came to, and when I had something to say, it was you I came to. But…I knew you didn't think I was making the right decision where Rebecca was concerned…you talked to her, made the effort, but I could see the truth behind your eyes. I was appreciative that you made the effort but…the selfish part of me said that no one ever appreciated my decisions. So I became cruel."

  I just stared at him. He was actually talking to me.

"After I realised what a mistake I'd made with Rebecca, I attempted to pull my life back together. But things weren't as they were – my family were no longer as close as they used to be. The music didn't sound as good anymore, and it was a job to drag myself out of bed in the mornings. And I was so, so envious of you."

"Of _me_?" I frowned. "Why were you envious of _me_?"

"You pulled your life back together," he said. "Something I could never do."

"No," I said sadly. "_Mark_ pulled my life back together."

  A tear escaped Jack's eye. "He tried to help me, too. But I wouldn't let him. I wouldn't let anyone help me. And now look at me."

  I was aghast with shock. "You felt alienated," I said. "You realised that you were different, and that in modern society, difference is very discriminated. You felt that everyone was against you, so you locked yourself away."

"I guessed that you'd be the one to understand," Jack said mournfully. "But at the same time, I realised that I'd pushed you way too much, that I couldn't reach out for you anymore."

  I gave off a laugh, but it was a watery. "I would've just been happy you didn't really hate me." I stared at him. "I'm sorry, Jack. I've been such a hypocrite."

  He smiled softly. "Same here. I'm sorry, Caz."

  I'd made such a big mistake. I'd been so caught up in my problems, I hadn't noticed Jack running parallel to me. 

  Then it happened. One minute Jack was there, the next he was gone. I looked around, stunned and confused. "Jack??" I called. "_Jack_?!"

  Where had he gone?? 

  Everyone was looking around, confused. I felt the sadness upon me grow slightly heavier. Where was he? I'd only just found him again, and now he'd disappeared?

"Carrie," Tommy said. I looked at him. "I think he's gone back. To our world."

  I stared. I couldn't help it. Then I said, "But why?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know. None of this makes sense."

  I stared at the ground where my brother had stood. 

"We must make for Lothlorien," Aragorn said softly.

"But what if he just got lost around here?" I mumbled.

"I doubt it," Aragorn replied. "Come. We must leave. I'm sorry."

  I shook my head sadly. Tommy gripped my forearm and helped move me along. "Don't worry, sis, he's safe. I know it."

----------@nd@®iel666----------

  The woods of Lothlorien were even more beautiful than those of the Trollshaws. A golden light filtered through the trees, making it ridiculously perfect. It felt so very homely, and I could have found myself never wanting to leave, had I not felt the powerful undercurrents. The only other who appeared uncomfortable was Frodo. I was apparently the only one who felt the chills shooting up my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck raising. The dull throbbing was in my head, and I felt as though there were compressions on all sides. I felt almost feverish, with a slight sheen on my brow.

  I kept close to Tommy, one of my arms linked through his. I was still not over the shock of Jack's sudden departure, and I hadn't left Tommy's side since. He seemed to understand, and didn't shake me off.

  I heard Gimli say, "Stay close, young Hobbits! They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods. An Elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell. And are never seen again." 

"_Carolina__."_

  I raised an eyebrow. I wasn't so stupid as to not realise that this was Galadriel. My only query was why she chose to fuck with my mind, not Frodo's. 

"_You are bringing a great darkness here, mortal_."

_  Excuse me for being a natural brunette_, I thought back, trying to be humorous. Some of the compressions that were pressing down on me disappeared, and I felt as though someone had just freed me from a corset. I breathed freely, glancing around.

"Well, here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily," Gimli continued. "I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox."

  He almost walked right into the arrow of an Elf. "Oh…" He said. 

  An Elf stepped forward, looking cold and arrogant. I was stunned as to how he and the Elves behind him could give off such an air of superiority and arrogance when Legolas was so comforting and humble. I looked for the Elf prince, and saw him with his bow and arrow cocked and ready, in a defensive position. 

"The Dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark," the head Elf drawled.

  Aragorn looked desperate to appease the situation. "_Haldir o Lórien. Henio aníron, boe ammen i dulu lîn. Boe ammen veriad lîn._"

  _Haldir, I thought. _Of course. Duh.__

"Aragorn!" Gimli hissed. "These woods are perilous. We should go back."

"You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood," Haldir said. "You cannot go back. Come. She is waiting." As he said this, his gaze was fixed on Frodo. He turned, and began to lead the way.

---------@nd@®iel666----------

  Lothlorien itself was simply beautiful. Silvers and blues, almost like an ice city. The designs were intricate, and built in or around giant trees. 

  I didn't gape like a ninny, though. I just followed the others, casting my gaze over each of the Fellowship as we moved. I didn't need to use empathy to know that they were greatly uncomfortable. 

  We were brought to a halt in front of a set of white stairs. I looked around and the immaculate kingdom, and realised exactly how out of place I must have appeared – my hair messy and un-brushed, my face with a huge bruise (which I'd seen when I'd used my sword blade as a mirror), my tunic ripped and bloody, my leggings worn and also caked with blood. Eyebrows un-plucked – eurgh, don't even begin to go to that place. I shuddered involuntarily.

  That was when Galadriel and her husband descended the stairs. Celeborn had long blond hair, much like most Elves – he also had an air of authority, but the kind of authority that was respectable. As though his mere presence in a room would make everyone shut up.

  Galadriel was just plain scary. Not that she was ugly – she wasn't. She had long golden hair, a kindly if not ethereal face, a slender figure. But she gave off an air of knowing, power and other-wordly experience. 

"Eleven that there are here, yet twelve there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him," Celeborn said.

  Galadriel looked at Aragorn. Her face took on an expression of slight shock and sadness. "He has fallen into Shadow. The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little, and it will fail to the ruin of all." At that last part, she glanced at Boromir. Boromir was looking very uncomfortable – tears threatening to pour from his eyes.

"Yet hope remains while the Company is true," Galadriel continued, glancing at Sam, who looked very humbled. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep in peace..."

  Her gaze had been on Frodo, but then it flicked ever so quickly to me. In that brief instant, three images hit me. A book, with pages turning. A pair of sapphire-blue eyes becoming stained, a dark brown drowning out the colour. And the Eye of Sauron, burning like my first attempt at a chocolate cake.

---------@nd@®iel666----------

  I was sitting alone. I had cleaned up, courtesy of the Elves – I had new clothes (tunic and leggings, much to the distaste of the Elves), my hair was washed and in the Elvish half-ponytail style they seemed to love so much. My wounds were tended to, but I had learned that the wound on my arm – the one I had self-inflicted in Moria – would scar. I wasn't really all that surprised, so I just shrugged and replied, "Another one to add to the collection, then, eh?"

  Legolas had given me an odd look when I had rejoined the group, but had gone back to doing odd little bits and bobs. Things that didn't involve me. So I just sat with my back to a tree, either studying this beautiful Elven kingdom or cleaning the blade of my sword. 

  Legolas was walking around in a silvery tunic. He looked gooooooood. And I'm not just saying that. He was holding an odd vase-thing with an elongated neck. Ideal for putting flowers in.

  He was looking at the sky with an odd little smile on his face. "A lament for Gandalf," he said softly, with a smile. I guessed he was listening to Elves or something. 

"What do they say about him?" Merry asked.

"I have not the heart to tell you. For me the grief is still too near," was the reply.

  I knew by now that Frodo was speaking with Galadriel and looking into the mirror. I sighed and rested my head back against the tree trunk. Too much had happened in too short a time. I had battled with all kinds of demons, not all of them physical ones. I had hurt and angered the ones I cared for. I had made decisions no one should have to make. I had always longed for adventure, certainly. But not this kind. I wanted the kind of adventure where I braved the Nemesis ride at Alton Towers, not brave the mines of Moria where there was a very good chance at winding up dead.

  _I thought death knew no pain? Part of me sneered._

  _It doesn't, the other part said. __But if I'm dead, then I can't do as I promised._

  _Oh, because you're oh so good at keeping promises, the other part snarled in reply._

"I am now," I whispered aloud, shaking myself. 

  I frowned. The compressions were back. I knew this to mean that Galadriel was obviously fishing around inside my mind or at least attempting to communicate. I tried something I'd seen on TV once – I thought of a brick wall. I focused on it intently, willing it to block everything out. Slowly, the compressions faded away. But then, a voice inside my mind whispered, "_Tula__ sinome. Come to me."_

  I was about to retort that I didn't know the way but, to my astonishment, as soon as I stood, my legs started to carry me of their own will. I walked down sets of stairs, my bare feet feeling the coolness and lavishing it. A cool breeze seemed to brush against my face, and I felt as though I were moving in slow motion. When I finally came to Galadriel, as she poured more water into what looked like a bird bath, I stopped dead, merely watching her. 

"Will you look into the mirror?" She said in that clear voice of hers. I swallowed, and decided to attempt to appear civilised and what the peoples of Middle Earth might consider 'proper'.

"Nay, Lady Galadriel," I said. "For I know that I would see things that were, things that are, and some things that have not yet come to pass."

  She gave me a contemplative look, a small smile pulling at her lips. "What a peculiar creature you are, Carolina. Is it so easy for you to paint yourself a different colour when faced with new surroundings?"

  I said nothing to that, as I gazed into those knowing blue eyes. She remained by her 'bird bath' as I so kindly dubbed it, looking at me. She looked as though she were bathed in light – she seemed to glow. Slowly, I stepped towards the mirror. 

"Do you fear what you might see?" Galadriel asked.

"If it is similar to any other mirror, then yes," I replied. "If it were to show my reflection, then that is troublesome enough. But I know what it can show – though I do not know what it _will show."_

"Even the wisest cannot tell. For the mirror shows many things," Galadriel nodded, and gestured to it. 

  I glanced into the mirror. I briefly saw my reflection – I looked cleaner and better than I had in a while, but I still didn't look my best. As I studied what was in the water, my reflection distorted, and images began to replace it. The first was of myself and Tommy. We were both kneeling, and I had my hand on his cheek. It was a tender moment, from what I could see. This faded, and the next image was of a woman running through grass, her long dark hair flowing behind her like black velvet, her soft midnight blue lacy dress billowing. She was about to turn, but the image was replaced with the one I had perceived earlier – of the blue eyes being invaded by a darker, tainted colour. This faded into an image of myself and Legolas, leaning close together, as though to kiss. Then I saw Saruman, his black eyes staring at me with cruelty. Behind him was death and destruction. I saw my own world being destroyed, and the Shire, and I saw a shadow hanging over vast woodlands. Last of all, I saw the Eye of Sauron, taunting me, mocking me.

  I leapt back, away from the mirror. What had that all meant? The cacophony of images had left my mind spinning, the pictures swimming around my head, demanding attention so that I could put myself to rest by at least attempting to understand them. But I couldn't.

"I know what it was that you saw. For it is also in my mind," Galadriel said. "You know of what will come to pass. The Fellowship is breaking . It has already begun. He will try to take the Ring. You know of whom I speak. One by one it will destroy them all."

"I will not allow that to happen," I argued, clenching my jaw. 

"Just as I remember," Galadriel whispered, staring at me. I was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

"Why am I here?"

  She shook her head. "I cannot say, for only one can tell. One who will return in the time of need to turn the tides."

"Well," I said. "Since no one has cared to reveal to me why I was forced into this army, I shall tell you what I think. I think that I was brought here to change things. I promised Frodo I would not fail him and I intend to keep that promise."

  Galadriel gave me a saddened look. "Though I do fear you are here for a higher purpose." She gave me a soft look. "There is many who love you. All of them need you. You must understand that to be who you are, you are walking alone."

"I always have done," I replied.

"Nay, not alone," Galadriel replied, placing her fingers under my chin gently. "Merely unarmed." She placed a kiss on my forehead. "There is one who loves you very much. Do not forget that."

  The overwhelming urge to cry was growing, so I merely sniffled and said, "Why, Galadriel, I'm touched that you feel that way, but…" I gave a watery grin. 

  She gave me a smile. "Go now, and take your odd sense of humour with you." But she wasn't angry – she seemed amused.

  I left, with a feeling of loneliness and a renewed despair. I was deeply unnerved by those images – myself and Tommy, kneeling face to face, with gentle smiles. The odd woman and the stained eyes. Legolas…Saruman…Sauron…the destruction…

"You should have given this burden to someone more stable to bear it," I hissed at the stars in the sky, as though they were to blame. I had walked into the forest, needing to be alone. The loneliness was certainly painful, but no one could understand. 

  I slumped to the ground, with my back against a very large upraised tree root. I drew my knees up, allowing my wrists to hang limply off them. Nothing made sense. I had the strong feeling that I should have recognised something by now, some key. But nothing sprung to mind. No one appeared out of nowhere to give me a clue, then vanish in a haze of green. No Drop Dead Fred came and called me Snotface, like he did to Lizzy in the movie, and he didn't give me clues, little hints or prods. I was alone, with the new images running around in my head as though they were like those annoying birds that fly around cartoon people's heads when they get concussed.

  It all meant something. But what? Why couldn't Galadriel and Gandalf and all the others stop dancing around it and actually tell me for once? If I was meant to be their saviour, they could at least fill me in on the little details. I mean, what the _fuck_ was my mission anyway? Surely I wasn't meant to go with Frodo to Mount Doom? That didn't seem right. No, I was certain that wasn't it.

  I heard a soft thud, and glanced down. The pouch had fallen open, and my pocket knife had fallen out. 

  I picked it up slowly, and unfolded the blade. It glinted in the moonlight, so beautiful…

  The red handle was like some kind of portent, or maybe a warning. I ran my thumb over the handle, remembering how I used to sit on the porch, and use the knife to slice off bits from an apple, and put them in my mouth before licking the juice off the blade. Sometimes I'd use the blade to sharpen my artist's pencils. And sometimes, I used it as self defence. 

  But now I used it as a pain reliever. Or, at least, some distorted version of a pain reliever. I placed the blade on the top of my forearm, and stared at it – the picture it made was oddly haunting. The blade pressing against white skin, the veins showing through as though they were white dots on black paper. I pressed a little harder, but not hard enough to draw blood. 

"_So unimpressed, but so in awe  
Such a saint, but such a whore  
So self-aware, so full of shit  
So indecisive, so adamant  
I'm contemplating, thinking about thinking  
It's so frustrating, just get another drink in  
Watch me come undone_," I whispered, glaring at the blade, pressing a little bit harder, tears springing from my eyes and falling down my cheeks, finally making their escape.

"_They're selling razor blades and mirrors in the street  
Pray when I'm coming down, you'll be asleep  
If I ever hurt you, your revenge will be so sweet  
Because I'm scum, and I'm your son  
I come undone  
I come undone…_"

  I was ready to pull the blade away, to make that cut. I was ready.

"_Melamin_?"

  But I had been interrupted.

A/N: I say so above, but I'll repeat it again just in case: the lyrics Carrie uses are from Robbie Williams' song Come Undone


	16. Lothlorien, Part 2: You Won't Hear Me

A/N: Well, thanks again! All these reviews *rubs hands together* they're great! Right, I think I have some clearing up to do (sorry I'm confusing a lot of people lol):

faer: Your wish has been granted :-D. Basically, we learn who Carrie reminds Legolas of in this chapter

Youko Demon: Wow, I keep confusing you with all these animals/insects, eh? Lol. Well, a bluebottle is a larger version of a housefly with bits of blue on it, and it makes a buzzing noise and makes you think there's a wasp around eek! They have the annoying habit of buzzing around people's heads.

saiyan-girl-cheetah: I'm actually gonna take this story right through Fellowship to Two Towers, and I was planning on Legolas letting slip to Carrie what melamin means at Edoras. I actually have the whole damn story planned out!

bianca: The chapter from Legolas's POV, I can tell you right now, will be when they're tracking the hobbits after the battle at Amon Hen (which is featured in the next chapter) so not long to wait, I promise! Please don't beat me with the noodle *cowers* lol. I'm not gonna make Carrie shag Legolas right away because I want it to be meaningful – not some quick roll in the sack, then true love. I want them to realise good stuff about each other before they decide to get wiv da lovin lol.

Fernvigiel: Yeah, I did a tarot reading for my mum once and she FLIPPED when she saw the death card – I spent about five minutes trying to explain it to her! Yeah, isn't Robbie the best? *grins* 

Honey Bee33: Yeah, Ain't That A Kick In The Head is from his Swing When You're Winning album, which is an album covering such greats as Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jnr etc. also from that album is Mack The Knife, Me and My Shadow, Things, Straighten Up and Fly Right, and I Will Talk and Hollywood Will Listen. They're all great! I've been listening to Robbie's Escapology album, and I must admit, I'm stuck on a song called Love Somebody – it's cool. 

Lucky Stars 07: Rabid cheerleaders?! *screams* 

  Oh, and in case anyone gets confused, a tenner is a ten pound note – Brit currency. 

  Thanks again, and here's the second part of Lothlorien!

You can use your illusion

Let it take you where it may

We live and learn

 And then sometimes it's best to walk away

Me I'm just here hangin' on

It's my only place to stay at least

For now anyway

I've worked too hard for my illusions

Just to throw them all away

 - Guns N' Roses, Locomotive

I froze. I froze as though someone had a pistol to my forehead and was threatening to pull the trigger. The knife, which had begun to bite into my skin, froze where it was. For someone who had been caught doing something she hated to think about, I was actually rock steady. I was staring at the knife, but I slowly raised my tearstained face to look the intruder in the eye.

  He was framed by moonlight. He looked so perfect it hurt. In his silvery tunic, with that hair – he just fit. When you looked at him, you realised that everything just is. He was looking at the knife at first, which was still resting against the top of my forearm, my arm in a prone position. But he raised his eyes to mine, that amazing blue looking right past my eyes. I couldn't read expression there. I tried, but there was nothing to read. His face just…_was. _

  Slowly, he moved over, and it seemed as though he were stuck in slow motion. He knelt beside me and gently removed the knife from my hand, folding it up. He rested it on the ground between us. I followed it to the ground with my eyes. I flicked my gaze to my arm. There was a very thin red line – it was thin, but it was there all the same. I glanced back to Legolas. He was watching me with that same, blank expression.

  I had been caught. I had been caught by someone who I respected and fancied the tunic off. I had been caught nearly self-harming by an Elf. How incredibly stupid did that sound?

  Slowly, I began to laugh. A humourless, hollow laugh that made surprise flicker through his eyes. As I laughed, I half sang, half said in a mocking tone;

"_So rock and roll, so corporate suit  
So damn ugly, so damn cute  
So well-trained, so animal  
So need your love, so fuck you all  
I'm not scared of dying, I just don't want to  
If I stopped lying I'd just disappoint you  
I come undone_."

  The laughter slowly faded and more tears came, but surprisingly they didn't come with the loud sobs I was usually prone to. I turned away from him slightly, and said, "You followed me." It wasn't really a question, and I gave delirious giggle at the fact that I was pretty much stating the obvious. 

"_Uma_," he said softly. "I had a feeling that you would be upset after speaking with Lady Galadriel."

"Hmph," I muttered, hanging my head. "Bet you didn't expect this."

"Not at this moment, nay," he said quietly. "But I had suspected it."

  My head shot up. "You w-what?"

  Legolas turned so that he could sit beside me, much like he had when we were on our way to Lothlorien. He sat similarly to me – knees drawn up, wrists resting on them. "I had several reasons to suspect, _melamin_. The first being your injury in Moria."

"Accidental," I bluffed.

"You lie so easily," he said blankly. I frowned. "Why lie when I know the truth?"

"Fine," I said aggressively. "I was lying my bloody arse off. Is that what you want to hear? I saw the spike. I walked into it on purpose. Happy?"

"Nay," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "It proves nothing to me except that you hurt."

"And…?" 

"You should have come to me," Legolas said.

"And said what?" I laughed bitterly. "'Legolas, I need to tell you something – see, I've been hacking away at my own flesh'."

  He turned to me, something resembling a glare in his eyes. "Have I told you nothing, Carrie? I understand your pains; I would not have turned you away."

"It's so easy for you to say that, you wouldn't be the one approaching someone else to tell them that you've been doing something that in their world could classify them to be put away in a mental institute or something!" I snapped. "And besides, why would I want to lay my problems on you?"

  He was silent, his jaw clenched. I realised that I was getting astonishingly good at either hurting or angering him. 

"So come on then, Legolas, what were your other reasons for guessing?" I was getting plain sarcastic now. "Do I have 'self-harmer' tattooed across my forehead in bold letters?"

  He stood up. I thought for a moment that I had angered him enough to make him walk away, and I instantly hated myself for my lack of self-control and my complete insolence. 

  But he did not leave. Instead, he merely began to remove his silver tunic. 

  Half of me wanted to ask what the fuck he was doing, and half of me was thinking, _wow, yeah, he's getting nekked. I watched him with confusion and fascination, an eyebrow raised. When the tunic was finally off, I saw that he was as perfect as one could imagine. Sculpted muscles, slim and lithe but not scrawny, slightly olive skin. But also…under the moonlight I could make out faint lines. Scars. _

  He knelt next to me, as though to give me a chance for a better inspection – and I can honestly say, I did myself proud and only studied the _scars_.

"Wow," I said. "You've been in some battles, huh?"

  He shook his head. "Nay, _melamin_."

  I raised an eyebrow, confused. But then I looked into his eyes. They spoke volumes. My eyes widened. "No…"

  He didn't flinch, he didn't move. I glanced at the scars, stunned. "You…you…"

"I suspected that you were hurting yourself because I recognised myself in you, _melamin_," he said sadly. "I was not sure how to approach you. It appears that that choice was made for me."

  My eyes were full of tears. "This is…confusing…"

  He gave a wry smile. "Many behold Elves as the pure ones of Middle Earth. But Elves can have just as many troubles as men or hobbits. They too can seek relief in the bite of a blade."

  I glanced at the pocket knife. "I hadn't done it in so long. I but when I came to Middle Earth…my control slipped."

"You did it before the council," he said. I looked at him, amazed. He smiled. "You may have disguised your limp from mortal eyes, but I am an Elf."

"I did it the night before, actually," I said, sadly. "Eurgh, I feel so embarrassed…" I buried my head in my heads.

"Do not feel so, _melamin_," he said, and I felt his arms wrap around me. "All you were seeking to do was replace one pain with a pain easier to cope with."

  My mind was reeling. Legolas was becoming more and more real to me by the moment. First, he was easily associated with my feelings. Next, he revealed family problems. And now…

  Whereas I'd held him on a pedestal as a flawless model, someone who was perfect in every way, I realised that I'd been holding him on the pedestal for the wrong kind of perfection. I was rapidly changing this mistake, as I let myself be held in his arms, as I'd let no one hug me for years. I didn't bristle once and attempt to push him away. I merely stayed as I was. Well, until I noticed that he was half naked. That was when I started blushing.

  He chuckled softly, then turned serious again. "There was one other reason I suspected_, a'maelamin."_

"_A'maelamin_?" I raised an eyebrow. "You really need to stop calling me all these names in Elvish, I'm getting paranoid." I shook my head. "Alright, what is this other reason?"

  He fell silent for a moment. "You are just like her."

  I paused, sensing a sudden change in the atmosphere – and I'm not talking in Star Trek terms. "Her who?"

"Dínramiel," he whispered. He paused. "She was of Rivendell royalty. Lord Elrond's niece. We were set to be in an arranged marriage."

  I gulped. He'd been married? Was still married? 

"I admit that neither of us was keen on the other at first. But soon…we grew fond of each other. We were soul mates." Legolas swallowed. "We wed. But not long after, Sauron settled his clutches upon Mirkwood. Many Elves were slain. To protect Dínramiel, she was guarded by magic. We were to send her to another world, where she would remain until the threat was over. She was to take the place of Lady Galadriel as Queen of Lothlorien after the Lady of Light would sail West."

"My world?" I asked softly.

"That is what we have guessed," he nodded. "She was fatally wounded. In the limbo between worlds, she passed on."

"I'm sorry," I said, swallowing. I'd had absolutely no idea of his loss. 

  He glanced at me, and once again – it was that look. The one that had flustered me so in Moria. He continued, "I suppose you are wondering what this has to do with my suspicions?" I nodded. "Before I found you just a few moments ago, I had spoken with Lady Galadriel. She confirmed a suspicion that had been settling in the back of my mind…"

"What…?" I asked. I was almost too afraid to ask. 

"When she passed in limbo, her soul was moved to where her body should have gone. And it was reincarnated."

  I blinked. I was feeling quite perceptive at the moment, but surely he didn't mean…?

"What are you saying?"

  Legolas looked me square in the eyes. "You are her. Her soul, at least. Lady Galadriel saw it in you…Mithrandir saw it in you. _I _saw it in you. Dínramiel's soul was reincarnated in you."

  I gave off a sound that resembled the sound a dog makes before it throws up. "Surely you're not serious…"

  He grasped both sides of my face and forced me to gaze at him. "I am very serious, Carrie. You are like her in almost every way. Except that you are a little more outspoken, and your eyes are different."

"And I'm mortal," I said softly. He winced. "Legolas, I'm not gonna accuse you of lying, because…believe it or not, I believe in reincarnation. Quite strongly, actually. But the idea that I'm the reincarnation of your past wife…your _Elvish_ wife, no less…it's sort of overwhelming…"

  No shit. My mind was spinning again. I had once been his wife? I had once been an _Elf?_

"How old are you?" I asked suddenly.

"I am 2, 931," he said.

"Bloody hell," I blinked. I stood, and began pacing. This was all so confusing. He finds me about to slice my skin. He comforts me. Reveals he's been there, done that. Reveals that I am the reincarnation of his past strumpet. How very interesting. 

  I felt his arms wind around me and hug me from behind. I noted that he was now wearing his tunic. "Are you angry?" He asked, sounding worried.

  I shook my head. "Shocked. It's not every day I'm told that I'm the reincarnation of Elvish royalty, who was married to a – " I trailed off, not knowing what to say. Married to a what? To a beautiful prince? To a kindred spirit? What had I been about to say? I couldn't tell. "Why did you suspect because of this?" I prodded. 

"Because she, like you, had many troubles. And she, like you, sought to release them."

  I sighed, lowering my head. 

"Do not hurt because of this news, _melamin," Legolas whispered, and I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. "There is no better soul to have than Dínramiel's."_

  I turned to him, wondering how to say what I was thinking. I decided that Tommy's way of being blunt would be best. "That may be so," I said. "But I don't want you to like me because of who I once was, instead of who I am now."

  He stared. It was the same kind of look that I would give to someone when I was either confused or just plain clueless – completely blank. "It had never crossed my mind to simply…like you because of who you once were."

  I had nothing to say to that. The idea that I had once been…no, it seemed too odd. And too coincidental.

"You must rest," Legolas said softly. "We have merely one more day left here before we leave."

  I nodded. Then, with an aching head, I followed Legolas back to wherever I was supposed to sleep. But before I left, I stooped and picked up my knife, sliding it back into my pouch and making sure that said pouch was tightly done up. 

----------@nd@®iel666----------

  The next morning dawned bright and beautiful. But I felt the weight of the world resting in my stomach. News of the fact that my soul had been around longer than my body, the mirror's images, and my being caught trying to hurt myself had all settled in my stomach overnight like curdled milk. Too odd and painful a thing to be here in these beautiful woods…

  I groaned, and got up slightly. Light headedness overtook me, and I stumbled forward slightly, before bending over and emptying my stomach. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I found myself thinking that it had been a long time since I'd gotten sick or thrown up over nerves or emotion. I'd been getting on as okay as I could. And now I was learning stuff about myself I wasn't sure I liked.

  A hand massaged my back, directly on the vertebrae. But somehow, I just knew it wasn't Legolas. As soon as I'd finished, I dropped to my knees, breathing heavily, before I turned to look at Frodo. He was looking at me with concern and slight sadness in those huge blue eyes. 

"I should not have treated you so harshly," he said. "If I have learned something from the journey thus far, it is that you have not steered us wrong. I should have trusted you."

"Don't worry about it, Frodo," I replied, wiping my forehead. "I knew how painful it would be when I made the decision." I put my hands on his shoulders. "But trust me when I say that it will all be fine. Please?"

  He continued to stare into my eyes, before he nodded. He moved forward slightly, and we embraced gently, like two old friends comforting each other. A wave of empathy washed over me, and I could almost tell that he was afraid, scared, and beginning to feel hopeless. This was wearing on him.

"I promised you I'd help," I whispered. "If you need anything…"

"Thank you," Frodo nodded, pulling away to give me a soft smile.

"Go," I said with one of my own. "You should at least try to unwind and relax a little, before we leave." He nodded, before turning away and leaving me looking after him with a slightly lighter feeling. I felt as though on of the heavy weights had been lifted from my shoulders. I groaned, and turned back again, propping my self up on one hand as I yet again turned inside out. I was Dínramiel. Legolas's past wife. I'd been caught trying to…

  I glared, before hoisting myself up shakily. I could handle this, surely. I mean, there'd been worse, right? 

  I was walking as though someone had hacked of my legs in the night and replaced them with overgrown bananas. My hair had become messy, so I removed the leather strap holding it still in the Elvish style, then decided to just leave it all hanging down. Why not?

  I eventually got steadier on my feet, and when I did, I suddenly realised that I had no idea where I was. Certainly, I was in Lothlorien. But where? I'd stumbled from where I'd spent the night into a part of the Elven kingdom where I didn't recognise.

"Aww, fuck," I groaned, slapping my forehead. "Ow." I glanced around, confused. Where was I?

"Carrie!"

  I glanced at Penny, who came jogging over, grinning from ear to ear. 

"Holy cow, you look like shit," she commented, before launching into an endless natter about how beautiful Lothlorien was and how the Elves were all so gorgeous.

"Boromir's not bad, either," she commented, grinning slyly.

  I could barely understand her, in my haze. "Wait, you think Boromir's cute?"

"God yeah," she grinned. "And he's a real animal…"

  My eyes widened. _That didn't need processing. "You have got to be kidding…"_

  She grinned at me, before patting me on the head. "Poor, naïve Carrie. Surely some day you'll grow up?" Then she bounded off. I stared after her, shocked. My sister had jumped in the sack with Boromir – when she had children and a bloke back in our world, no less. I found myself hoping it didn't change anything in the timeline – after all, I hadn't actually jumped Legolas. 

"Fuck it all," I grumbled, rubbing my forehead. Things just kept getting…odder. And I still didn't know where I was. I just stood still for a moment, looking around. That was when I heard the soft notes of a voice, so sweet and dulcet. I followed my ears, and found myself standing at the foot of a set of winding stairs, wrapped around a tree and climbing upwards until they ended in a beautiful tree-house type building. Curiously, I climbed the stairs, and with every step I took, the words got clearer. 

"_You used to captivate me  
By your resonating light  
But now I'm bound by the life you left behind  
Your face it haunts  
My once pleasant dreams  
Your voice it chased away  
All the sanity in me…_"

  I kept moving up the stairs, my focus on the 'tree house'. 

"_These wounds won't seem to heal  
This pain is just too real  
There's just too much that time cannot erase…_"

  A stab of familiarity hit me, and I tilted my head to the side, wondering what had made me freeze in my tracks. But all the same, I forced myself to begin moving again.

"_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
And I've held your hand through all of these years  
But you still have  
All of me…_"

  I found myself staring into the tree house's insides. In there was a gathering of Elves, along with Gimli, Aragorn, Boromir and Haldir. Legolas was there too, and I was stunned to realise that it was he who was singing. His eyes were closed, his head bowed. He seemed lost in the words.

"_I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone  
But though you're still with me  
I've been alone all along…_" (Evanescence, My Immortal)

  Something stirred in the pit of my stomach. Something that spoke of something ancient. He opened his eyes, and glanced up. I couldn't move for a moment, my eyes locked in their wide, staring state. 

  The silence was deadly. I eventually cast my gaze around the room. Aragorn was eyeing me with slight anticipation. As if I should be doing something. 

"I didn't know where everyone was," I said eventually. "I merely followed my ears." With this, I turned, spinning on my heel – and I left. Somehow, I managed to find myself in something vaguely resembling a town square. It had a large structure, almost like a fountain, only it was only a pool of sparkling blue water. I sat on the edge of this structure, and gazed around the city. Soon, we would be at Amon Hen (A/N: I think it's either Amon Hen or Parth Galen, either way!). That would be where the shit hit the fan in a major way. The Fellowship would break, and my hold over all of them, my protection of all of them, would slip. 

  Aragorn sat next to me. There was an odd silence for a moment. He hadn't spoken to me much – if at all. It always seemed as though he were purposely distancing himself from me. "You recognised the song he sang," was all the Ranger said.

"It gave me an odd feeling is all," I said, purposely not looking at him.

"It was Dínramiel's death lament."

  My head snapped up so fast that I felt a pain. Her death lament. Did that mean he held on to her memory tighter than I thought? Did that explain the odd feelings in my stomach?

"I am no fool," Aragorn continued. "I can tell that you feel that he will only care for you because you carry her soul." He paused. "I have heard many tails of Rivendell's Shadowed Moon, the _Halda'Ithil. From what I have heard, you are just like her. But Legolas would not sink so low as to merely trail you because of your soul."_

  I glanced at the sky. The day had only just begun, yet already, I was praying for it to end. "Where's my brother?" I asked. 

"The tavern, I believe," Aragorn replied. "Keep going that way, then turn left at the fork. You cannot miss it."

  I nodded, muttering a brief thank you, before I strode off to find Tommy, my anger growing. Aragorn was obviously completely filled in on all the details, then. How many other people knew that I was the reincarnation of this oh-so-fabulous _Halda'Ithil? This Dínramiel? Had the fact that I was Carrie, an other-worlder, completely slipped everyone's minds?_

  I came to the fork and turned left, looking up. The tavern appeared to be a merry place, filled with light and with a welcoming feel to it. I pushed open the door, and stepped inside. A sort of silence fell over the place, as everyone studied me. I noticed that no women graced this tavern aside from the one behind the bar. I frowned. I cast my eyes over the intimidating eyes of the Elves, before walking along the row of booth-like U-shaped benches and tables, kind of like at Pizza Hut only with lower wooden backs. I finally found Tommy. He was passed out on the table, his head resting on its side on the table, one of his hands not too far away from an Elvish pint glass.

  I sighed, and slumped into the booth just before his one, on the side closer to him so I could lean over to him. I poked him in the shoulder.

  He let out a very loud snort, making me jump, and he mumbled sleepily, "Kimberly, for the las' time, just take the tenner and piss the fuck off."

  With that he promptly passed out again. I snorted, before running my fingers gently through his spiky brown highlighted hair. 

"Geez, Tommy," I muttered. "You don't normally drink. I guess something's got to you, huh?" I shook my head. I felt as though I should just continually talk to him, even though I knew he wouldn't really hear me. "Do you miss home? I do. I mean sure, being here with you means I get to see you more than I would if we were back in our world. I'm grateful for that, definitely. But here…even what with all that's in our world, we don't have Orcs and cave trolls...and we aren't supposed to make great decisions involving the destinies of a group of walkers set out to save the world." I studied my unconscious brother. "If you are the reincarnation of something, what are you the reincarnation of, I wonder? It could be anything, I mean, _I am supposedly the reincarnation of an Elven princess. _Me_. I would've suspected I was the reincarnation of a toilet brush or something. Or a poodle." I shuddered. I felt guilty laying all this on him when he was asleep, but I knew somehow that I could never do it whilst he was awake. _

"You know," I said, "I had a weird dream last night. I dreamt that our whole family moved into this great new house that was kinda run down but repairable. And I got this great big room that had a massive wardrobe, and, oddly enough, a cream-coloured bathtub at the end of the double bed. Anyway, I kept getting really bad feelings from this room. Really bad. I felt these feelings as if they were real. I'd leave the bedroom, and when I'd come back, the taps on the bathtub would be on, water almost overflowing. I eventually decided that the room was haunted. But I had to figure out a way to get rid of the ghosts." I shook my head, chuckling bitterly. "If only I had that courage in real life. Anyway, me and mum try and do a sort of sitting-on-the-bed-and-pleading-them-to-fuck-off thing. But then, dad mentions something like 'unison psychic ability' which frankly, I think is something my stupid mind made up. But me and ma seem to understand, and we put our heads together and start chanting. And viola, ghost fucking city. It was awful. We realised there were dead bodies buried all around the house, and we started digging out these skeletons to give them proper burials so the ghosts would stop haunting us. But…I went into the kitchen. Uncle was there." I glanced at him, but he was still out cold. "And Tommy, although he was a ghost in this dream, he was so damn real. I could hug him and everything – and it felt just as I remembered. It felt so good. We talked, though what about I can't remember…and when I woke up, and it was just a dream, I wished he were real." 

  I lowered my gaze. Uncle, like Mark, had been very important to me. He too had talked me through some tough times, and his own emotional state was always omnipresent in my mind, almost as though it was a warning left behind to make sure I didn't follow in the same footsteps. 

"Do you still dream of uncle?" I asked him, rhetorically. "I'll bet you do. I mean, you told me about one dream. I just wish I could have hugged uncle once more, you know? Like I used to, and he'd tell me not to fall asleep or I might dribble on him…like you're doing on that table. Eurgh, Tommy, you dirty git." Pause. "Uncle would know what to do here. Mark too, come to think of it. You know, you look kind of like Robbie Williams." That just slipped out of my mouth, and I giggled. "My own Robbie Williams. Now, I know you can't hear me, which is probably why I have the courage to say all this." I lowered my voice.

"_You were there  
For summer dreaming  
And you gave me  
What I need  
And I hope you  
Find your freedom  
For eternity_." I smiled. "There. Some Robbie for my Robbie. Love you, mate. Hope that that's buried in your subconscious, just in case I don't make it out alive." I leaned over as best as I could and placed a kiss on his stubbly cheek. He grunted again.

  I sat back down, and I felt stupid – stupid for just sitting there nattering to an unconscious inebriated man, and stupid for not saying all this to him when he was awake and sober. I turned back to face the table, like any normal person would sit. I squealed. Legolas was sitting opposite me, just staring.

"Godammit, do that again and I'll…I'll…" At his raised eyebrow, I said, "Do something."

"A threat indeed," he smirked. 

"I forgot that Elves were silent for a moment there," I frowned. "Whatcha doing here? And how much of my incessant rambling did you hear?"

"Enough," he replied mysteriously. 

"It's rude to eavesdrop."

"_Amin hiraetha_. I came to find you."

"Why?"

"You left abruptly."

  Ah. The tree house place thingy.

"I was looking for the Fellowship. I found them. There was no need to stay."

  He placed a package on the table. For a delirious moment, I almost thought that he was pushing drugs, but then I recognised a corner of Lembas bread.

"Not hungry," I said, shaking my head. 

"You look awful," he replied. I gaped at him. He smiled. "You are wasting away, _melamin_. Eat."

"Wasting away?" I burst out laughing. "My fat arse could block out the sun!"

"Ummmm, yup, fat arse," Tommy grumbled in his sleep, and he shifted, falling off his seat and landing on the floor, still unconscious.

"Good bloody god!" I laughed, and got up, and with Legolas's help, managed to haul Tommy to our booth, were we spread him out in a similar position as he had been at his own booth, only further away from the edge. This actually forced me closer to Legolas.

  He raised an eyebrow. "I saw Frodo not too long ago. He told me you were ill."

  I grinned. "Frodo forgave me."

  He smiled and chuckled. "As I knew he would. But that is changing the subject."

"I blew chunks. It doesn't matter." At his confused look, I made hand gestures in front of my mouth to mime puking. "I, um, vomited. Regurgitated. Yakked."

  He pushed the Lembas closer. "Then you should most definitely be hungry."

  I frowned at him, before breaking off a corner and eating it grumpily. I was quite embarrassed to feel my eyes drooping slightly. I was still tired, apparently. Was I tired? I couldn't tell. I was vaguely aware of the loud snores of my brother, and something Legolas was saying. What was he saying? Didn't know…

  My eyes rolled back into my head, and I fell sideways before everything went black. 

----------@nd@®iel666----------

  Something wet on my face. Was it raining? Ahhh, at last. I love the rain. Then why was it just on my face?

  I cracked an eye open. All I could see was a hand. I stared at it. A hand?

"Are you well?" Blimey! The hand was speaking to me!

  Then the hand moved, and was replaced with a face. Blue-grey eyes and a shit-eating grin. "Godammit, Tommy!" I groaned. "What happened?"

"You passed out," Tommy replied, snickering. "You fell sideways and landed in poor Legolas's lap."

  I blushed. His lap? Ooooh, no…

"How long was I out?" I mumbled.

"About half an hour. When you didn't come round, we decided to help you back to the land of the living," my darling brother replied.

  I was tempted to ask if I'd actually been in Legolas's lap for half an hour, but decided not to. Instead, I sat up. I shook my head, wiping some of the water from my face. Kneeling not too far away was Legolas himself. His hand was wet, and I recognised it as the one I'd that was talking to me. He'd obviously poured the water on me. I tried not to laugh at my own stupidity, and stumbled to my feet. "Well," I said. "I had some fantastic dreams while I was out."

"Oh really," Tommy asked, cocking a cheeky eyebrow.

"You shut up," I said. "I know what's on your mind, you naughty boy."

"Aahhh, you know me so well, sis. Come on. We've gotta do a bit of relaxing before we leave tomorrow."

*

  Relaxing turned out to be taking archery lessons. I wasn't that bad, except that when Legolas went to help me, his touch made me squeak and I shot my arrow a little too high. A lot higher than necessary, actually. Of course, the Elven archer found this very funny. 

  When I hit the bullseye at one point, I did a little dance with Boromir, which I was instantly embarrassed about, and then remembered in the recesses of my mind that Penny had slept with him. This thought made me seek out my sister with my gaze, and I found her talking to Legolas. She was twirling her hair around her finger, looking quite demure. I frowned. How did she always know how to look so damn good? I mean, bloody hell, I still looked awful if I had a makeover.

  The rest of the day passed in a haze for me. I eventually regained my appetite, and probably cleared the Elves out of their food supply. Their food was different – but still quite yummy. I found myself listening to Frodo's tales of the Shire, with Merry and Pippin joining in between mouthfuls of food. The Shire sounded lovely – like the ideal place to live. 

  By nightfall, I was tired once again. I had to sleep early anyway, because we were waking up early to leave Lothlorien, and set out for what became known between me and Tommy (and sometimes Penny) as the 'Shit + Fan = Amon Hen' equation. 

  I snuggled down into my private corner, and I felt a sudden bout of fear. I didn't want another dream like the ghost one – pleasant as it was, dreaming of uncle, it was unnerving and upsetting. Normally I – admittedly – slept with a stuffed teddy to keep dreams at bay. But I didn't have one with me. 

  But then, Legolas sat down beside me. Without a word, he shifted at such an angle that I would have to have been extremely thick not to realise that he was offering himself as a cuddle-bear. And who was I to resist?

  Although my mind told me that I was probably being stupid, I really wanted someone to sleep next to – some comfort to carry me through till morning. So I shifted so that I was sitting close to him and rested my head on his chest, burying my arms into my lap to keep them warm, as his own arm came round my shoulders.

"'Night," I mumbled, before I once again slipped into the darkness of what was this time a dreamless sleep.

A/N: Verse Carrie sang to Tommy is Eternity by Robbie Williams – a beautiful song *sigh*


	17. Of Shits, Fans, And Amon Hen

A/N: Hey guys, sorry this took so long!

Crimson Starlight: Nah, Penny hasn't read the books, but she has seen the cartoon (which is actually a movie from my childhood *grin*), so she has a fairly good idea of what's to come.

The I.H.P.P.F: Just a quick thing – that isn't really the only reason people self mutilate. Certainly, one of the reasons is to replace emotional pain with another type of pain, but sometimes self-harmers mutilate themselves because they hate themselves – and feel that others hate them – so much, that they feel the need to punish themselves. And yeah – I fought long and hard with my brain to try and figure out how to actually work Carrie and Legolas's connection. I hope it worked

Youko Demon: Are you kidding?! I say 'blimey' all the time!

  Right, before I start, I have some announcements to make:

The word 'shite' used in this chapter is actually 'shite' and not a misspelling of 'shit' lol. It's pronounced like 'light' only with the 'sh', of course, and it means pretty much the same thing as 'shit'. The next chapter will be from Legolas's POV And finally, I just wanna thank my mate Rosen for helping me clear my mind and sort out where this story's going – I had too many ideas and not enough decisiveness – thanks, hun ;-). 

   Right, well, on with the show! 

  ~*~@nd@®iel666~*~

I've paid my dues  
Time after time  
I've done my sentence  
But committed no crime  
And bad mistakes  
I've made a few  
I've had my share of sand  
Kicked in my face  
But I've come through  
And I need to go on and on and on and on

 - Queen, We Are The Champions

  Consciousness came over me, and it was most unwelcome. All I could register was that I was warm, comfortable, and light-headed – yet still sleepy. I felt better than I had done in a while – a good night's sleep seemed to have done me a world of good.

  I twisted about, burrowing deeper into my cosy bed, slapping at my pillow when it began to move.

  Wait – began to _move?_

  I raised my head, and noted one amused Elf smirking at me. I suddenly remembered that he'd offered himself up as my cuddle-bear, and I blushed slightly at the memory of me recently trying to burrow into his side.

  I sat up, various strands of hair falling all over my face and generally sticking out at odd angles. Frowning slightly, I dislodged my foot from under my arse, wincing as it tingled with pins and needles. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the fog of sleep.

"I trust you are rested?" Legolas asked, cocking an eyebrow in a…well, in a cocky way. 

"Yep," I replied. I was gonna make a joke about being knocked out by his farts but I figured he wouldn't see the humorous side like I did, so I just laughed to myself anyway, getting to my feet and looking around.

  The hobbits were trying – and failing – to wake Tommy. I grinned. He was on his side with his mouth hanging open. Not very attractive…

"Tommy! I think I smell breakfast!"

  He instantly sat up. "Yeah, I'm hungry. Who's cooking dinner?" He asked groggily. 

  I laughed. "Mornin', dearest. I do believe the Elves are preparing the breakfast. It is morning, after all. And we have to leave Lothlorien today."

  He raised an eyebrow, and nodded. "Well," he said. "I'm famished. And you need to find a hairbrush."

  Lovely, huh?

----------@nd@®iel666----------

  Well, I'd found a hairbrush. Actually, I'd found a whole host of she-Elves by accident, and they pretty much forced me into a very strongly fragranced bath, playing the rabid beauty queens and cleaning me and making me feminine.

  I wanted to yak. I smelled like a girl.

  By the time it was over, I was back in my tunic and leggings, but smelling like flowers. Great. Now I was a pansy.

  Of course, Tommy called me the same thing when I joined him and the rest for breakfast. The whole Fellowship was eating together, it seemed, and they were all smiling – even Frodo had a smile on his face. I felt lighter to see that Frodo wasn't quite as worn as I'd thought.

  I ate quite a bit. I think I even out-ate Tommy, and that was amazing. Poor guy looked at me as though I'd sprouted a second head. Legolas, however, seemed pleased – he no longer had to pester me continually about wasting away. I was the same as I had been when I'd landed in Middle Earth – somewhere between average and podgy. Wasting away indeed.

  I rubbed an apple on my tunic before taking a bite, listening all the while to various stories from my companions. I'd been keeping an eye on Penny and Boromir, and from what I could see, neither saw it as anything more than a roll in the hay. I was both relieved and annoyed at this. I had to stop myself from calling her a tart – harsh, I know, but it seemed wrong in my eyes. But I knew not to say anything, so I bit my tongue and forced myself to shut up. 

  I watched them all, as they spoke, and I suddenly felt as though I weren't part of the group. I felt as though I were observing from a distance, watching through a clear window as these people bantered and told tales. The sound seemed to fade out as well, like when those people have freak-outs in movies and the noise goes all distorted. They all seemed innocent. And in a way, they were – they were innocent to what would happen. The Fellowship would break. Some characters would be brought back, others would fade.

  I found the piece of apple in my mouth, which had tasted so good only moments ago, losing all element of flavour. I lost interest in chewing, but did so and forced myself to swallow. I rested the apple on top of one of the plates on the table, no longer hungry. Well, no one could say I'd starved myself – I'd eaten a lot more in that morning than I normally did in five days. 

"Isn't that right, Carrie?"  

  I came back to Middle Earth with a thud. "Huh?"

"Brutus," Tommy replied. "I was telling them about Brutus."

"Oh," I said, frowning. "What about Brutus?"

"You know, how he was like a wolf and all," Tommy urged.

  I forced a smile to my face. Even after some time to heal, Brutus was still a tender subject. My German Shepherd. He'd been the best dog anyone could ever hope for – he was obedient, smart, beautiful (he was an all black German Shepherd – quite rare, I'd heard. He'd been bred from champions too), and a good companion. I'd had him for over half my life – had him 'til I was fifteen. 

  _I ran down the stairs, probably faster than healthy. I stopped to pick up Brutus's bowl from the ground, and walked into the kitchen – passing the living room doorway without even bothering to look in._

_  Brutus lay on the floor, looking at me with those brown eyes that were almost human. I smiled to myself, and picked up the poodle's bowl as well. I'd rather let the little shit starve to death, but I knew my mum would hate me if I did. So I did my little chore of feeding the dogs._

_  I fed the ugly little poodle, before turning to Brutus. "C'mon, mate," I called, patting my knee. "Time to fill your greedy guts. Don't worry; you can take a nice shit later." I chuckled to myself._

_  But Brutus wouldn't get up. He was staring at me, his breathing seeming quite fast and hard – his body seemed to shake with his breaths._

_"Brutus, come on," I said again, showing him his bowl. He was usually such a gannet when it came to food. But he wasn't moving._

_  My breath caught in my throat. He was a fifteen year old dog. He was very, very old. Exactly the same age as me. And lately, he'd been deteriorating. Certainly, he'd had fits for several years and had been put on pills, but the he was getting too old. His fur was falling out in clumps (though he never looked any balder. He was descended from arctic wolves, so he had the luscious thick coat), his mind had certainly deteriorated, and his back legs were going. My dad had promised that when he lost his back legs, he'd be put down by the vet – dad had owned a shepherd dog when he was little, and he remembered how they'd had to live with the dog after his legs had gone. He didn't want another one to be put through that._

_  Something told me all was not well. And in that moment, I seemed to flash back on Brutus standing over me, growling and protecting me from a boy who'd lived next door, who'd set out to do me harm. He'd protected me for so long, made me feel as though it were safe to sleep at night._

_"Please get up," I whispered._

_  He stared at me with sad brown eyes. I sank to my knees, burying my fingers in his musty, smelly fur, stroking him gently. "Please get up, Brutus. Try."_

_  He did try. He fumbled, with his claws scraping at the linoleum. But to no avail. He whined slightly, and I felt a sudden sinking feeling in my stomach. "Damn it," I whispered. "Does fifteen years mean _nothing_?!"_

_  But then, of course fifteen years meant something. It meant he was very, very old._

_  I rose to my feet, staring at the dog that lay at my feet. A companion from my childhood, and a protector from those confused times to the present. The smart, loving dog that'd been with me since the beginning._

_  I left the kitchen, and turned to finally look into the living room. Dad was doing the monthly sums, with mum smoking a cigarette and chiming in with the odd comment when she wasn't watching her soaps on TV._

_"Dad," I said. "Brutus won't get up."_

_  Dad gave me a look, before he sighed and got up. He must have known that something was wrong with the poor old dog, because his face was grave. I went back to the kitchen and leant against the freezer, as my parents started to try coaxing Brutus up, talking to him and comforting him. They offered him his food bowl, and he barely ate two doggy mouthfuls. He took a bit of the water offered, but he didn't look any healthier. And he still didn't get up._

_  As dad studied him, and he spoke, I knew already that it wasn't good. To try and hide the threatening tears, I turned on my heel and went up the stairs. Pausing at the top, I slowly walked over to the door with the sticker on it that said 'kiss my puntang', and knocked._

_  Jack opened the door, and grinned. "Hey, Carrie, guess what? I downloaded the first Guns N' Roses Use Your Illusion album!"_

_"That's…that's great," I said, swallowing. "Look, Jack…it's Brutus…" my voice seemed to crack and wobble from there. "He won't get up…I d-don't think he has very l-long left…"_

_  The look on Jack's face said it all. Cheerful turned to surprise, then to grim dissatisfaction. Slowly, he nodded and moved past me, going down the stairs. I stepped into my bedroom, looking around. I wasn't really all that sure what to do with myself. Part of me thought that we could save Brutus. But the other part of me knew that he was too old. Too ill._

_  I sat in my computer chair, and stared at the black monitor screen. I cried a little – but only a little. The lump in my throat seemed too big for tears to leak past it. If that made sense. He was going to be put down. I could feel it in my bones, I could feel it in the vibes that rose up around the house. My fifteen years of safe protection and blissful ignorance was coming to an abrupt and almost rude ending._

"Wow, you're really out of it today."

  I blinked at Tommy, not even realising I'd zoned out. Everyone else was staring at me as well, so I cleared my throat and said, "Sorry. Brutus was…the best I could hope for." And he had been. Turned out, he'd excelled the normal lifespan of a German Shepherd by 2 years – and not just that, but he'd done it with near blindness, awful hearing and an abdominal tumour. It was as though he'd thought, '_no, they're my family and I'm not leaving them, godammit!'_

  I tried not to blush under the gazes of the Fellowship (especially Legolas, who's eyes seemed to have x-ray vision), and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, before standing. "Shouldn't we be moving?" I asked. "Didn't Lady Galadriel want to see us before we left?"

  The others nodded, all rising. There were various conversations and banters along the way, but I remained silent. I was thinking carefully. Since Brutus had been put down, I'd suddenly become more aware. As though I'd been squinting to read a small print novel, then someone handed me a larger print book. Brutus had let me believe that I was safe, I was invincible and I needn't do anything. But after he'd died, I suddenly felt as though my fences had been knocked down, and that I was out in the open. I stopped sleeping easily at night, and I suddenly became more aware even when I was out. Whereas the slight footfalls of someone behind me might have annoyed me but not bothered me into paranoia before, they most certainly did now. It was as though I'd suddenly realised, on all fronts, that I'd had my head stuck up my arse, unable to see anything clearly. And now, I realised that I wasn't invincible – I'd always been open for attacks, and the reason I hadn't been paranoid beforehand was all down to Brutus, whether he'd actually been present or not.

  With him had gone a lot of memories and a lot of secure feelings. The poodle had been left behind, but he was about as useful as a sack of shit. 

"Shite," Tommy mumbled. "I just left that bloody place and I'm hungry already."

  I snorted, and ran my fingers awkwardly through my hair. I suppose it could have been said that I was a little vain when it came to my hair. I received so many compliments for it that I tended to get a little egotistical where it was concerned. When I was a kid, I paid very little attention to it – my mum had to force me to wash it and brush it. But as I grew older, I began to brush it more and more, and I'd do it myself. I'd wash it properly, and I'd realise how incredibly nice washed hair was. I revelled in it.

  That was one of the reasons I was going nuts in Middle Earth. There seemed to be a shortage of hairbrushes. I had become what might have been considered by some as an obsessive compulsive when it came to my hair – I'd brush my hair, do something for about fifteen minutes, before I'd start brushing it all over again. 

  Right now, I was very worried over its state. I kept staring at it, or twisting it around my fist, or flicking it, or just plain running my fingers through it in a poor impersonation of a brush or a comb. 

  The riverside where we were to say goodbye to the Galadhrim was quite pretty. I, normally being one for drawing people only, was pleasantly surprised when I felt a twinge in my gut that told me I wanted to draw this beautiful scene. Maybe add a few Elves into the picture. Maybe Legolas…

  _Shut up, you stupid slapper, I snapped at myself mentally. __He's your friend – a mutual mate who shares your feelings and experiences. Stop thinking about him like he's a piece of meat._

  With this thought, I slumped onto the riverbank, sitting cross-legged and barely acknowledging Penny as she sat next to me.

"I, uh," she started, but she didn't need to say anything. I knew she was worried about the Amon Hen thing – she had no experience as a fighter whatsoever. She'd be useless and a wide-open target. 

"I know," I said. "Don't worry about it. We'll jump off that bridge when we get there." She frowned, but shut up. I hugged my knees to my chin, and stared at the bright, sunlit sky. 

  _What is wrong with me? I wondered. __I feel as though I'm not me – as though I'm observing everything from out of this body._

  _You should be happy, another voice commented. __You've saved yourself the same emotional hassle you had with your parents about your self harm. Legolas didn't mind. He even let you use him as a pillow last night._

  _That was nice, voice #1 said._

  _Course it was, voice #2 replied. __You fancy his leggings off._

  _But I'm mortal, I suddenly thought. This instantly made me frown. Why was I in this continual circle, where I knew that Legolas was way, way out of my league, but I still lusted for him? I was kidding myself – being stupid and acting like a lovesick puppy._

  _Prat, I scolded myself._

  When Galadriel appeared, we all stood respectively. I bit the inside of my mouth, tearing the skin away as I was prone to do when I wasn't sure what else to do. As I stared at Galadriel's fair face, I had a sudden flashback of her saying, "Just as I remember", with tears in her eyes. Looking at me. _Dínramiel again, no doubt. I clenched my jaw and waited for it all to end so that we could leave. _

  The thought of Dínramiel tormented me – more than I'd ever admit out loud. Not only did it make me paranoid of Legolas's intentions, but it also set me on edge – it was like when someone said, "Don't stroke that dog, you don't know where it's been". I suddenly felt the same way about my soul. It had been someone else's before it had ever been mine, and that made me feel a maelstrom of emotions – anger, surprise, sadness, even comfort in some places. But stronger was the paranoia – if Legolas would look at me, I'd wonder who he really saw. Carrie or Dínramiel? 

"Carolina."

  I glanced up. It was then that I noticed that Galadriel was looking at me quite pointedly. She had already given the others their gifts, including Frodo's Light of Earendil. Even my siblings had gifts – Tommy had a flask of something, and Penny was holding what looked like one of those snowy orbs.

  With a small frown, I stepped forward. 

  Galadriel looked upon me with keen, knowing eyes. She said, "Farewell, Carolina." She held up her hand, and dangling from it was a necklace. It was an odd thing – a deep blood-red stone that had what looked like an ivory claw holding it. She gently placed it around my neck, and said, "For when the future is unrecognisable."

  I raised my eyebrow at her mysterious words, but said nonetheless, "Thank you."

  It seemed that in no time at all, we were setting out in the boats. Aragorn, Frodo and Sam in one boat, Boromir, and the other two hobbits in another, Gimli, Legolas and Penny in another boat, and Tommy and I in the last one. As the boats set off, I glanced over at the shore, as Galadriel slowly raised her hand and waved. I was wondering whether to wave back, but my hand was weighed down somehow. I couldn't wave even if I wanted to.

  I realised that I was scared. Soon, once of the bigger battles of this tale was rapidly approaching – and there was a very big chance I wouldn't survive. That my siblings might not survive. I glanced at Penny, who was staring at the water tentatively. Then I glanced at Tommy, who was rowing steadily and strongly, fuelled by his kayaking experience. I'd seen him kayak at Yalding – he was very good at it. Of course, he'd had some bad moments – one being when he got stuck capsized, and had a very close brush with death. Very close. Luckily, a mate pulled him up. 

  When I'd heard about that, I'd laughed. Some might say that was very obnoxious of me. The truth was, I'd been scared out of my knickers. When I was scared or nervous, my first reaction would be to laugh (as my maniacal episode with Legolas had proven). I never quite understood why – the closest I'd come to guessing was that I thought that if I laughed at it, undermined it, it would go away.

  And Tommy had lived. He'd instantly began practising his Eskimo rolls so that he wouldn't repeat the accident. He'd never set foot in those particular parts again, either. He'd been too scared.

  Yalding. Hmmm. If I remembered rightly, that was where a girl had pointed to back of my leg and said, "What's that?" Thus notifying me on an old SH scar I hadn't realised I'd had. I was mortified. 

  The waters were relaxing. I couldn't swim, but surprisingly enough, I'd never actually been afraid of water. Tommy had once owned a 32ft boat, and had taken me and dad out to open sea. It had been amazing. And I proved them both wrong and didn't get seasick once. I'd even steered the boat – though, when Tommy went to take over and I stood up from the seat, we hit a rough wave and I went flying, bouncing off the iron steps and knocking dad into the galley. 

  Somewhere along the way, my mind tuned out completely. I could barely make out any thoughts at all, apart from that I was dreading what would soon happen. I was so caught up in my own mind, that I barely noticed the thwap round the head, but I blinked and glanced around. Tommy was grinning.

"Finally, it decides to come to life. Fuck, sis, I've been calling you for god knows how long."

"Why?" I frowned, rubbing the back of my head.

  He tossed a package at me. "Legolas says to eat this, or he'll shove an arrow up your arse."

  I raised an eyebrow.

"Well," Tommy amended. "Not his exact words, of course…"

  I stared at the Lembas and frowned again. I wasn't sure what was bugging me more – the idea that Legolas was playing the mother hen (freaky as that sounded) or the reminder of my insecurities that I wasn't Carrie. That all he saw was Dínramiel, Elven princess, his wife, etc. 

  I shook my head, before breaking the Lembas in half. I handed half to Tommy, and the gannet instantly crammed some into his mouth, apparently hungry. "Mrrrnkkkk oooo." 

"You're welcome," I replied, eating mine much more daintily. 

----------@nd@®iel666----------

  Somewhere along the line, Tommy must have caught my Robbie Williams fever. Well, aside from the fact that Kimberly herself loved Robbie to pieces. He was singing Let Love Be Your Energy as he rowed, and the lyrics of the song made my roll my eyes back into my head.

"I think Supreme is better," I commented. "The lyrics suit the mood much more appropriately."

"I'm guessing you're in one of those dark, disturbing moods where you give too much morbid information," Tommy said, smirking.

"Maybe I just don't believe in that kind of love," I shot back.

  He raised an eyebrow. "How odd, to hear one so young so discouraged."

  I blinked, confused. "I've been harping on about how love is a load of bollocks for years."

  He snorted. "That you have, now that I think of it. I just didn't think you meant it."

  I shook my head, and glanced around. Everyone in the boats seemed placid, as they silently continued the journey towards the Shit + Fan = Amon Hen equation. 

  Legolas seemed distracted. I soon realised why. Straining my hearing, I could hear Penny. Flirting. 

  _That hussy, my mind thought. _What the fuck does she think she's doing? Is she trying to bed the whole bloody Fellowship_?!_

  She was curling her hair around her finger, flirting quite outrageously with the poor Elf. And aside from this little shock, the next one hit me in the stomach – he didn't seem to be doing much to stop her. He just listened to her and replied to her comments in a low voice, too low for me to distinguish what he was saying. Gimli was rolling his eyes, and I might have grinned, had I not been so annoyed.

  _What is this? Voice #1 asked. _Are you _jealous_?__

  _No way! Voice #2 argued. _But look at her! She's acting like a prime harlot!__

  _But that's not what's bothering you, voice #1 sneered. __What's bothering you is that he isn't fighting it. _

  _I know better than to have delusions about an Elf, voice #2 snapped. _It has something to do with the whole mortal/immortal thing_._

  _But that doesn't matter, deep down, voice #1 replied. __And besides, he said it himself. You're Dínramiel._

"Fuck!" I snapped aloud, drawing the attention of Tommy. I glared at my hands. It always brought me back to _Halda'Ithil. Always. I realised then that I was jealous of my own soul. _

  That thought made me laugh, and Tommy gave me an officially scared look. I bit my lip to bite down the laughter, and eventually, I was sitting there, just staring at the gentle waves of the river and listening to Tommy sing.

"_I knew a man Bojangles  
And he'd dance for you  
In worn out shoes   
  
With silver hair a ragged shirt  
And baggy pants  
He would do the old soft shoe  
  
He would jump so high  
Jump so high  
Then he lightly touch down…_"

  I sighed. "You missing Reiss?" 

  He fixed a gaze on me. "How'd you guess?"

"The song was a dead giveaway," I replied with a smile. "Reiss loves Mr Bojangles."

"You do pay attention, then," he said, smiling slightly.

"Of course I do," I snorted. "I also know he likes Road To Mandalay." Then I sang quickly, 

"_Everything I touched was golden  
Everything I loved got broken  
On the Road to Mandalay  
Every mistake I__'__ve ever made  
Has been rehashed and then replayed  
As I got lost along the way…"_

  He laughed, and shook his head. 

"What do you suppose Jack's doing now?" I asked suddenly, my mind focusing on the mental image of my brother, the image from when he let a tear slide down his cheek fresh in my mind. 

"I don't know," Tommy confessed. "But let's just hope that he's making better decisions now."

"He probably is," I replied, nodding my head. "He'd dug himself into a hole and didn't think he could get out. He just needed a boost-up."

  A slow pain began to grow in my forehead. By now, I'd begun to think of it as a portent for when evil was near. My theory seemed to be proven when Legolas and Aragorn glanced at the woodlands at the side of the river. Uruk-Hai. 

  Not long after, we 'pulled over' as it were, coming to rest on a shore. I felt that familiar dread as mine and Tommy's boat hit the shore. _Bollocks_, I thought. _This is moving too fast to be a comfort._

  I went to get out, frowning at the still whirring thoughts in my tired brain. I just wanted to scoop them all out and stamp on them – or at least, just put them all on pause. But that wasn't possible – my mind always seemed to like doing things the hard way, whether it be math or otherwise. Geez, math. I'd never taken that seriously. One time, when someone had been talking to me about shapes at school, I'd pointed to one and accidentally said, "What about this shite?" Heh heh, that had been good.

  I managed to get one leg on land, but as I moved to get the other, I tripped, stumbling forward. I was caught though – someone grabbed me before I made a complete pillock out of myself.

"Bugger," I growled. I glanced up, and instantly felt my insides melt, before going into a frenzy. "Um, thanks," I said, raising an eyebrow and stepping back.

"_Lle creoso_," Legolas replied.

"I'll take it that means 'you're welcome'," I said. He nodded.

  The feelings in my stomach were very unpleasant. I was both going all mushy and girlish at the sight of him, but at the same time, a kind of icy feeling was caught up in my gut, one that told me that I was playing second fiddle. One that told me I was only smiled at because my soul had once been that of his wife. And those feelings felt like cold water in my face. 

  Aragorn cleared his throat. "Well," he said. "We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats, and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north."

"Oh, yes?" Gimli piped up, already sitting – Penny and the hobbits sitting nearby, as Legolas moved to stand near Aragorn. "Just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks? And after that, it gets even better! Festering, stinking marshlands, as far as the eye can see!"

"That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf," Aragorn replied.

"Recover my... phfwahh..."

  I suddenly remembered about Boromir's little attempt at stealing the Ring. Somewhere inside my mind, a voice yelled, 'You can stop it! Move your legs, wench!'

  So, with a discretion that surprised even me, I set off in the general direction of where I figured they'd gone. As I walked, I bit the inside of my mouth, my nervousness flooding over me. How did I expect to stop Boromir? I couldn't just walk up to him, tap him on the shoulder and tell him to fuck off. No, that didn't seem to be a very good idea in my mind. I was suddenly wishing I'd brought Tommy with me, but I realised I couldn't back out now.

  I reached into my pouch and extracted the pocket knife, pulling the blade out and staring at it. I'd used this to sharpen pencils, peel apples, slice erasers in half, sever cellotape, and slice my own skin – but this would have been the first time I'd ever threatened someone with the small but impressive blade. Worrying images flitted through my mind of me holding the blade to Boromir's throat. They made me feel very, very unsettled. I'd only ever threatened people with words and my limbs before. Blades were dangerous, as I knew. And threatening someone with them was no game. 

  I heard voices up ahead, and I knew I'd found them. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward to intervene, when pain overtook me, crippling me. I dropped the knife, tensing as I fell to my knees. The pain was spreading across my forehead in sharp waves, travelling down my jaw and shooting across my chest, where it swelled behind my ribs like a demon battling to break through my ribs.

  And through mind, images flashed unbidden. Pain, torture…I felt my breathing speed up, as I saw people I knew from the college slain by orcs as they broke through anomalies into my world. I saw my own house burned down, our neighbours murdered in their beds, and…

  I gave a silent scream as I saw my own family slaughtered like animals. I saw our entire street ablaze, with fire licking at the blood-red sky, with the growls and menacing laughter of the orcs and the Uruk-Hai. 

  _No, no, no, no, no, no, no…_

  I was suddenly attacked by the image of Sauron's Eye. It was blazing, looking at me – looking right through me and seeing the very fibre of my being. I growled to myself, and flung myself backwards. I wasn't sure how I did it, but I did – and it seemed to break the trance. I landed on my back, my head hitting the soft ground, my hands instinctively curling into fists. I gasped for breath, feeling the last twinges of pain receding. _It won't happen_, I told myself. _They can't do that. They _won't_ do that_.

  I forced myself to sit up, shaking my head dazedly. I gave a frustrated cry, and leapt forward, grabbing my knife. With it in hand, I stumbled to my feet, running the last couple of paces until I came to the clearing. Boromir was sitting with his head in his hands. I was too late.

  He glanced up at me, and his eyes were filled with tears. I wasn't going to blame him for this, because I knew that it wasn't his fault. His desire and greed (which was a common trait for humans) had been seduced. He hadn't been himself.

  I gave him a blank look. 

"I…I tried to take the Ring," he said, his voice clogged with tears. 

  I offered him my hand. He stared at it for a moment, before allowing himself to be pulled up. "It doesn't matter," I replied. "Be ready, Boromir. A battle commences." 

  He gave me a confused look, and whatever he was about to say was cut short, when grunts, cries, and heavy footfalls met our ears. He gave me a startled glance, and as quickly as I could with my shaking hands, I folded the pocket knife, put it away, and drew my sword. He too drew his sword, looking surprised, but ready. It was in that moment, when I noticed the almost boyish look in his eyes, that I knew I had to save him. From what I could tell, it wouldn't change anything – Faramir would still, by rights, find Frodo and Sam. And Denethor would still be a mad old fart. 

  We ran together, looking for Merry and Pippin – their cries could be heard, distracting the Uruk-Hai – most likely to deter them so that Frodo could escape. When we found them, they were surrounded by UHs, and one was preparing to swing an axe…

  Boromir instantly jumped into the fray, staying the axe. He was swinging into the battle, fuelled by his need to atone for his mistakes. I was inspired just by watching him, and I too ran into the fray. I swung my blade at an unsuspecting UH, slicing him from groin to chest. I spun into a roundhouse kick at another one, but he only stumbled back a touch. These bastards were strong. But I was strong too. Strong in the way that I was fuelled by the adrenaline of battle, the promise of new chances, the hope. I was swinging wildly, my blade clashing with theirs as I feinted, thrust, sliced and diced, kicked and even hit. My heart was pounding, filling my ears with its rapid booming. My senses seemed to switch between heightened and degenerated. I was fighting like a madwoman, my overheated senses barely picking out the sound of the Horn of Gondor from the grunts and squeals around me.

  I ran at a UH, swinging my sword, and found it blocked by his. I spun, swinging the blade again, but was yet again blocked. So I feinted a thrust upwards, and as the ugly fucker moved to meet it, I swung a kick. It sent the sword sailing from the beast's hand, and I caught the blade almost expertly, running the UH through with his own sword.

  That was when I spotted the UH that was preparing its bow. This was the one to shoot Boromir. My chance was nigh. I looked around frantically, and spotted a Uruk shield. As quickly as I could, I wrested it from the dead thing's grasp. "Boromir!" I flung the shield to him. He caught it, looking at it in amazement. He then noticed the UH, just about to let its arrow fly. He swung the shield, and blocked the first arrow. 

  I quickly began my fast fighting again, trying not to be distracted by Boromir's possible demise. I stabbed and I beat and I evaded, coming closer to Boromir by the moment. Boromir, in his own bid to stay alive, neglected the hobbits momentarily, but it was enough. They tried to fight, but the UHs took them. I was about to run after the Uruk-Hai, when two things occurred to me. The first was that I was a mere mortal woman, and that I could never take on all of them alone. And the second was that Boromir, in his momentary shock at seeing the hobbits captured, had let his shield fall slightly. And the UH was aiming an arrow directly at his heart.

  I ran forward instantly. The hobbits, I knew, would live. They'd end up in Fangorn. But Boromir…he could die. In the book, he _did _die. This was all that ran through my head as I darted forward, and stepped in front of him, facing him. 

  And then the pain. I stared down, half relieved that I'd accomplished what I'd intended, and half afraid for my life. I could see the tip of the arrow sticking through my shoulder, already soaking my tunic with blood. I stumbled forward slightly, and Boromir gripped my by the shoulders, holding me up.

"Carrie!" He gasped.

  The UH had been temporarily disabled by surprise, and this deterred it just long enough for Aragorn to appear and begin to wage a battle with the filthy shit. I remained, gripped in Boromir's hold, as he wrapped an arm around my waist, supporting me. I was stunned. I'd done what I'd wanted to do, but the pain was more than I'd expected – kind of like in Moria, with the spike. I could feel a slight nausea, a dizzy feeling that made my eyelids feel heavy and my heart even heavier. 

  I barely acknowledged when Aragorn came over, breathing heavily from his battle, and said, "It's over. For now." He gripped my shoulders. "Carrie," he said. 

  I glanced into his blue eyes, trying to focus but losing myself every now and then because of the pain. I was barely aware when he sat me on the ground, propped up against Boromir, and opened my tunic up slightly, pulled it to the side to inspect the wound. 

"They took the little ones," Boromir said breathlessly. Then he blinked. "Frodo? Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go," Aragorn replied, studying my wound. I was hanging on to the conversation, forcing myself to absorb it as the pain licked at me and made me flinch.

"Then you did what I could not," Boromir said sadly, still propping me up. "I tried to take the Ring from him."

"The Ring is beyond our reach now," Aragorn said.

"Forgive me. I did not see it. I have failed you all," Boromir said, hanging his head.

"On the contrary," I piped up, my voice hoarse. "You'd be surprised at what good you've done." Well, in a way, it was true. I may not have read the final book, but I knew enough to know how it would all end. Things would be okay.

  I felt him take my hand and squeeze it. "You risked your life for me," he said, sounding disbelieving. 

"Is it honestly so hard to believe?" I said, with a painful snort of derision. "Or are you just undermined because you were saved by a woman?" I tried to laugh, but it hurt a little too much.

"Thank you," Boromir said quietly.

  I smiled. "_Lle creoso. You're welcome." I noted that Aragorn gave me an odd look when I spoke the Elvish, and I almost felt satisfaction that I could stir the Ranger._

"Carrie!"

  I felt a burst of relief when Tommy landed on his knees beside Aragorn, staring in horror at the arrow protruding from my shoulder. "Oh god," he groaned.

"Do not worry yourself, friend," Aragorn said. "The arrow has missed her vital organs. All it needs is a dressing and no strain."

"You have a fine sister, Tommy," Boromir commented.

"Awww, shucks," I said, grinning.

  Before I knew it, there was a flash of colour, and Legolas was kneeling on the other side of Aragorn, staring at the arrow with concern. Behind him, I could see Penny standing with Gimli, her eyes wide. 

"Help me," Aragorn ordered Boromir, then said to me, "Stay still." Boromir gripped my shoulders sturdily, and Aragorn quickly removed the arrow from my shoulder. I, of course, yelled. But not the common scream. Instead, I yelled out a long stream of swearwords without taking breath. It sounded something like 'fuckbollocksshitbloodyhellfuckshitebastardfuckingcunt'. Tommy, concerned as he was, was rolling around on the floor, laughing his arse off. Legolas instantly began tending to my wounds, removing his seemingly endless stock of rags and wiping at my wounds. I was trying not to flinch, biting my lip instead, as Tommy gripped my hand. Boromir was filling everyone in on what happened.

"I always thought that sisters were good slaves, not shields," Tommy joked, squeezing my hand. I mock-glared at him.

"Oh, of course, because you always need shielding from arrows or bullets."

  I flinched again, glancing at Legolas as rubbed at the wound.

"Here," Tommy said, and handed Legolas the flask Galadriel had given him. "That's alcohol," he said. "Should help disinfect the wound."

"_Diola lle_," Legolas nodded. I notched that up mentally as 'thank you'. I highly doubted it was 'fuck off'. 

  Of course, the alcohol made me scream again. "Fuck, that hurts," I cried. But somewhere in my mind, I realised that my tunic was hanging half open, revealing the flimsy undershirt and a large portion of pale skin. I glanced at Legolas sidelong, as though to check to see if he was perving, but he seemed to be being professional enough, as he handed Tommy his flask back and continued to act as nurse.

"What to do?" Aragorn mumbled. 

  I cleared my throat. "If I may?" Aragorn glanced at me, then nodded. "Frodo and Sam will already be across the river by now. They're on they're no longer in our control."

"Then it has all been in vain," Gimli barked. "The Fellowship has failed."

"I think not," I replied, raising an eyebrow, as Legolas began to strap up my shoulder (and removed one side of my tunic to do so, I might add). "Frodo and Sam may be out of our reach now. But Merry and Pippin need saving. Why leave them to torment and death?"

"She is right," Aragorn nodded. "We rest first, nourish ourselves. Then we travel light, and hunt some orc."

  He stood, and Boromir  went with him, leaving me propped against a tree as Legolas continued to treat my wound. Tommy stood to speak to Penny as Gimli joined Aragorn and Boromir. I was left alone with Legolas.

  I took the time as he sorted me out to just study him. He would be every portrait artist's dream – full of curves and angles. And he was frowning in concentration as he wound a long piece of material around my shoulder.

"You have a knack for getting injured, melamin," he said quietly.

"What can I say?" I shrugged. "It's a talent."

  He paused, then removed something from inside my shirt. I stared down, stunned, and noticed my necklace. Not Galadriel's necklace, but my other necklace – I'd become so used to wearing it, I'd completely forgotten it was there.

"What is this?" Legolas asked, studying it curiously.

"It's called tiger eye," I replied. "It's a stone that looks very similar to the colour of the eyes of a particular type of wildcat." And tiger eye was indeed beautiful. It seemed almost holographic, with its golden colours shifting about to make new patterns. I had a chunk of it inside a small cage around my neck. "I believe that it brings me luck," I continued. "And that it protects me. This necklace is actually amazingly important to me."

  And it was. I lost it once, accidentally, and in the week that it was gone, I was practically pulling my hair out. But weirder still – when I found it, it was in pain sight in a place where I'd already looked. Ever since then, I made sure it never left my neck.

"It is beautiful," he smiled, and knotted off the bandage. "Try not to put too much stress on the wound," he said, standing and offering me a hand. He pulled me up, and I instantly shrugged back into my tunic, lacing it up. 

"Thank you," I said. He nodded, smiling, and left to join the men. As he did, Penny latched onto his arm, making a frown cross my face involuntarily. With a slight grunt, I sat on a log, putting my hands in my lap and gnawing away at my lip, trying to ignore the pain in my shoulder.

  Tommy sat next to me with a sigh. "As honourable as your intention was, I wish you hadn't put yourself in danger like that, sis," he said.

"I wasn't really thinking," I confessed. "I just realised that I wanted Boromir to live, and did the first thing I could think of."

  He stared at the blade he clasped in his hands, turning it so that it caught the light. "That battle was actually more threatening than I thought it would be," he admitted.

  I nodded. "I think I have good potential as a martial artist, from what I've been doing." I smirked, then said seriously, "I really thought I'd fucked everything up for a moment there."

"You very nearly did," he replied. "Without you, none of us would know what to do."

  I gave a small smile. "I'm that important, huh? I just…I felt the pain, and I thought that that was it. I'd expired. I thought I was drawing my last breaths."

"I know the feeling," Tommy replied. "In Yalding…in that kayak…I thought I was a-goner for sure, Carrie. My head was hitting the bottom, it seemed to shallow to roll, and I wasn't that good at rolling anyhow…I was on my last breaths. If Lee hadn't pulled me up at that moment…"

  I glanced at him. "I guess we've both given each other heart attacks then."

  He nodded, then said, "Don't do it again, sis. Don't get yourself killed."

"I'll try not to," I replied, smiling softly. 

  I stood, and slowly walked over to where the boats were, my arms folded. I stared out across the river, wondering exactly how much had changed. Had changed in Middle Earth, and had changed in my mind. Because no one remained unaffected by an arrow stuck in their shoulder. 

  I felt less invincible. Yet again, I'd let myself get carried away. I'd almost felt as though nothing could harm me. Then I'd received an arrow in the shoulder, and god, the pain…

  It really put things in perspective.

"Your brother is right. It would be a grievance if you were to be fatally wounded."

  I glanced at Legolas, and fought the urge to ask, _why_? _Is it because I'm Dínramiel_? But I realised I was being foolish. I felt bad for feeling so damn jealous of my past self. Yes, jealous. I openly admitted that to myself. I was jealous because my past self could have – and _did_ have – what I wanted. 

  I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "After all, I'm the only one who fully knows what lies ahead, right?"

  He stared at me for a long moment, his face blank, and I almost felt as though that scrutinising stare was ripping the flesh and muscles of my bones, looking right down into me. It made me feel very uncomfortable. "You mistake your value here, _melamin," he replied, raising some of my hair in his fingers and letting it slowly fall strand-by-strand back over my shoulder, before he turned and went back to the others, leaving me to stare across the river, until Boromir alerted me that we were ready to set after Merry and Pippin, and begin our journey into the real-life version of a book called The Two Towers. _


	18. Through These Eyes

 A/N: Heya all! Thanks to all who reviewed, _amin mela lle_! It's been so great!

Kwannom: A sorceress? I wish! Hee hee. And I'm glad you said that Carrie started out annoying, but got better. Not only is this story supposed to shape her character into a better, more mature person, but it also proves she's like me – a lot of people, on first glance, seem to HATE me. When I first meet people, I either go really quiet, or I get really detailed and morbid, and as you can imagine…lol!

Marie the Black Rose: I don't know where I found them, but I found a site with listings of not only Elvish phrases, but also individual words translated to Elvish, so I just had to improvise from there

  Anyways, since everyone's so intent on wanting Legolas/Carrie romance, I added a little of it in this chapter (especially because I'm still scared of bianca's wet noodle lmao). I've written this chapter partially on a high after drinking three bottles of vodka , orange and passion-fruit to celebrate getting an A in my first exam ever! Woohoo! Anyway, this chapter is from Legolas's POV, as promised. Hope you all enjoy!

  ~*~Andariel666~*~

We've been through this such a long long time  
Just tryin' to kill the pain  
But lovers always come and lovers always go  
An no one's really sure who's lettin' go today  
Walking away  
If we could take the time to lay it on the line  
I could rest my head  
Just knowin' that you were mine  
All mine

 - Guns N' Roses, November Rain

  We had been moving after the hobbits for a day or two. Aragorn was careful in keeping to the tracks, using his eyes and employing my own to scout for any possible tracks and clues as to their direction.

  The Uruk-Hai were not graceful, light stepping creatures. Every footstep they took left an indentation on the landscape – whether it be literal, or whether it be the evil scent and atmosphere that seemed to linger behind.

  We moved in miniature groups, but our minds were set on one task. There was Aragorn and myself at the front. Behind us was Gimli and Boromir, and behind them, Tommy, Penny, and Carrie.

  The siblings seemed to wish to stay together – or at least, Carrie and Tommy wished to stay together. Neither seemed to like Penny very much. 

  I had considered speaking to Carrie several times, but all the times I wanted to, I could think of naught to say. It seemed that what ever I might say to her would be counteracted by a sharp comment. Or by emotions exactly opposite to those I might expect – especially since she was in pain from her wound.

  But that had always been the way. Even with Dínramiel. Compliments were returned due to the misunderstanding of them. Endearments or caring phrases would be mistaken for something else.

_"Yeah. After all, I'm the only one who fully knows what lies ahead, right?"_

  An enigma. A mass of confusion and mystery that confused even Elves. I was disconcerted to be thrown so often. And to be spoken to in such a haughty, derisive tone as she almost always spoke to me. Not that I minded as such – I had not given her much reason to speak in any other tone.

  She would probably never return my love.

  She believed that my wanting her to remain alive would be so that she could lead us without straying from the clear paths. 

  My existence had been thrown the moment my wife left me. Imagine how thrown I was when she came back. And with the bitterest of ironies – she came back as a mortal.

  But thinking along these lines made me feel guilty. It was as though I were weighing the differences, and that was not fair. Though at the same time – I was coming to understand the differences, and I had accepted that she was Carrie, not Dínramiel.

  But she didn't seem to accept that. 

  She could hide all she wanted, but I knew she was disturbed. By what, I could not pinpoint, but it was not hard to notice.

"Something smells _really_ bad," Penny commented.

"It's not me!" Tommy cried. 

"I didn't say it was, Tr – ow!" Carrie was giving her a smile that could also be taken for a grimace. Her hand was still poised from when it had hit her sister upside the head. 

"I told you not to start that again, Pen," she said airily, reaching up a hand to streak it through her hair, looking frustrated. "Does anyone have a bloody hairbrush?"

  We all looked at her. 

"I guess that means no, then," she sighed. 

  We were out in the open, with Aragorn stopping every once in a while to use his Ranger skills, listening, searching, and choosing. He was certain we were on the right path, and we all moved together at rapid paces, stopping for short breaks every now and then. I had left her alone all of these times we had stopped, and she had chosen to sit quite far away with her brother. I wasn't sure as to whether I should be warmed by her dedication to her sibling, or hurt at her lack of communication with me. 

  I had learned long ago with her soul that to let it know it has hurt you is to dig your own grave. If I let her know exactly how sharp her words were and how much they pained me at times, she would either increase their strength, or become even more self-destructive from guilt. 

  One thing I had discovered about her was that allowing her to drink alcohol was never good.

"I just want you to know," she slurred, arm around Boromir's shoulder, "That I really loved you in Titanic." She then proceeded to drop to the ground and grab a hold of the grass, screaming for everybody to hold on, because the world was tipping and we might fall off.

  I had raised an eyebrow to Tommy, and he had flushed, holding up the flask Lady Galadriel had given him. Carrie was inebriated.

"I'm not drunk," she snapped at Penny. "Can't I be happy? _Hmmm?!"_

"Perhaps we should rest," Aragorn said, amused.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Carrie nodded, instantly attentive. "I need to piss."

  Tommy choked on a sip from his flask.

  Since then, I made sure she was kept away from any alcohol present, as much as it lightened her spirits and amused us all. I felt ridiculously like an overprotective father – when in reality, that was the last thing I desired.

  We stopped for a rest near some woodland, and Gimli collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. "Thank the heavens for this chance to rest," he bellowed. 

"We'll be back in a minute," Carrie said. I glanced up, frowning, to see her grip Penny's forearm and drag her partway into the woodland. I did not want her straying too far, but something told me that if I were to tell her this, appreciating it would be one of her last reactions. 

"She will live," Aragorn commented. For a mortal, he was remarkably perceptive.

"She has survived this far after all," I agreed, my voice quiet. I was sitting alone with him – the others were grouped together, and of course, Carrie and her sister were in the woodland.

  Aragorn was wiping his blade clean, polishing it neatly. "Did you ever suspect she wouldn't?"

  I frowned. I wasn't sure I liked where this appeared to be leading. "Nay, I never suspected demise."

"But insanity would be another matter," Aragorn pressed. I lowered my eyes. "Legolas, I have been floundering under the weight of my ancestor. I did not wish to make the mistakes regarding the Ring as Isildur made all that time ago. But Arwen voiced an important detail. That I am his heir, not _he himself_. Just as Carrie is herself, not Dínramiel. She may hold the soul, but she is not necessarily doomed to be subjected to the same fate as _Halda'Ithil_."

  I gave off a frustrated sound. "And yet she has appeared before me, looking remarkably similar to her old self and bearing a personality too similar for my comfort. It 'tis history repeating itself, _mellonamin_."

"Or perhaps it is fate giving you another chance."

  I had longed to hear those words. I had turned them over in my head many times, considering Carrie's purpose in Middle Earth. It seemed too simple in my mind that she merely be here to aid us in the war. But at the same time, I felt too presumptuous to think that she might be here because of me. Because of our history.

"Then why should fate be so cruel as to make her mortal?"

  Aragorn shook his head. "From what I understand, Elves do not exist where she comes from. Do not forgot, _mellon_, that though her soul is of Middle Earth, her body and mind are not."

"I would only have a limited time with her, even if she were to return my feelings." There. I had said it aloud. Yet surprisingly, I did not feel any better.

"It depends on if you prefer limited time to no time at all," Aragorn replied, and his words seemed to rattle my very bones. Could I really stand such a short lifetime with Carrie? And that was even if she would want to. "And what makes you so certain she might not share your feelings?"

  I clenched my jaw and said nothing.

"I should think that the person you need to speak with is Carrie herself," Aragorn continued. "She is, after all, the object of your affections."

  I knew I was blushing, and Aragorn laughed heartily. I had not realised I was being so obvious – but then, he was a Ranger after all.

  I thought I heard laughter, and strained my ears, but the sound was gone. I was growing nervous because she was nowhere in sight. She was different to Dínramiel in many ways, when I considered it. Different eyes, darker hair, a more filled-out shape, a crasser way of speaking, but slightly less self-destructive and less prone to impulse. And Dínramiel would never have thought to say, do, or even think most of the things Carrie did. And you could tell what she was thinking, because it reflected in her eyes. 

  They were different – I had noticed it before, and had unknowingly created comparisons. Now I realised that I had not been fair in comparing them, since they both equalled the same way in my affections, no matter what.

"Do not expect her to be just like _Halda'Ithil," Aragorn warned. "Remember, she is mortal. Not to mention from another world."_

"I just…" I, but trailed off when a loud yell startled me.

"BLOODY HELL!"

  Carrie came storming out of the woodland, glaring and resembling a charging Oliphant. She stopped and glared pointedly at her brother. "Our darling sister has decided to go back to our world." She dropped to the ground, embracing her knee and resting her chin on it, staring at the ground forlornly. "Why, oh why, oh bloody why. What is happening?"

_"What is happening?"_

_  I glanced up at her, as she paced backward and forward, her eyes wide._

_"What is it that you mean, cormamin my heart?"_

_  She cast me a sidelong glance. "The whispers in the corridors. The Elves that are training and exercising harder than before." She glanced past me and out to the horizon. "The shadow."_

_"Dae shadow?"_

_  Now she was definitely casting me a less-than-pleased look. At one point in the past, it might have made me shrink back. I suppose that when you are forced to spend so much time with someone, you tend to grow used to them. "Do you take me for a fool, Legolas? Did you think I would not see that darkness that lies not too far away?"_

_  I sighed, and lay my bow down. I took the time to study my wife, as she stared worriedly at the horizon. I could not believe she was mine. Of course, had someone told me she would be mine not too long ago, I would have told them they had lost their minds. I had considered her to be the most obnoxious, stubborn she-Elf in all of Middle Earth. _

_  Of course, I had not realised she had thought of me in the same way. Once we had been forced to speak, we found ways to tolerate each other. And now, after a while of sharp words and dark looks, we had set aside our differences and continued on with the arranged marriage. And I had come to love her._

_  I stood up, and approached her. She stopped moving straight away, and fixed upon me with a haughty gaze. "You need not worry yourself, morihinamin my dark child. It shall all be taken care of."_

_"And that is why Elves are running scared, I suppose, lisse' sweet?" She replied, her words dripping with sarcasm. I tried not to flinch at her words – she always seemed to know how to strike an arrow to my heart with her words. However, she seemed to notice the effect of her words._

_"Amin hiraetha, tarenamin I am sorry, my prince. It is not your fault."_

_  I sighed. "Too long has it been since you rested easy."_

_  She smiled. "And too long has it been since we spoke to each other in confidence." _

_  In fact, we had not spoken in confidence since she had discovered my self-abusive habits. I was never sure on how to approach her, for her caustic attitude tended to make me feel…unwelcome._

_  I drew her close for an embrace, and she complied willingly. Against my shoulder, she said, "Amin dele I am worried. I would hate for our lifetime together to be disturbed."_

_"It will not be disturbed," I replied, placing a kiss on her shoulder. _

_"Amin mela lle I love you," she said softly. I smiled. I never heard enough of her saying those three words to me. I hugged her closer, thankful that at least if the shadow would threaten us worse than suspected, I at last had someone to love, and I would die joyful._

_"Amin mela lle, Dínramiel," I whispered._

"Carrie…it's a good thing she's gone back to our world," Tommy said tentatively. "I mean, she couldn't fight for toffee…"

"She wouldn't have survived," Carrie said glumly. She was staring at the ground still, her face set in an expression of discontent. "But still…" Her eyes seemed saddened somehow. I was momentarily confused, remembering how she and Penny would bicker. But at the same time, I remembered myself and Dínramiel. We had reconciled. Perhaps she had Penny had done the same. 

  After a moment or two, she rose steadily. In the moment when she rose, I felt something fade from me. Something that had held me back and restricted my trail of thought. I felt as though Dínramiel was slipping further into the past. And I knew that this was Carrie. Similar as she was, she was not my past wife. But I still cared for her nonetheless.

  Carrie nodded her head, as though reassuring herself of something. "We should get moving," she said. "Don't worry. I'm stone-cold sober now."

  She definitely seemed that way.

  We gathered our belongings together, and yet again set out after the captured hobbits. The ground seemed to work in our favour, and kept indentations and subtle markings to betray the Uruk-Hai band's progress. 

  I glanced back, and noticed that Carrie had backed away from the group, moving on her own as she seemed prone to do. I could tell straight away that she was in one of her contemplative, dark moods – her eyes once again betrayed her. I slipped back, so that I was beside her.

"Perhaps it was for the best," I said quietly.

"I don't doubt it," she replied, shrugging. "I just wish I could've understood more."

  So do I, I thought to myself, but I said nothing in regards to her comment – it seemed to be shrouded with possible meanings, and I did not wish to touch on the wrong one. 

"You fear your brother being wrenched from your grasp," I said.

  She rewarded me with a slight smile. "You have a remarkable knack for astuteness, my dear. You aren't a mind reader, are you?"

"Nay," I said quickly, shaking my head. "It does not take the most powerful Istar in the world to see that you care for your brother." 

"I'm that obvious, hmm?" She looked almost embarrassed. I frowned slightly.

"Do not worry, _melamin_. I am certain he cares for you too." I was not sure who I was speaking of – Tommy, or myself. 

  She said nothing, but sighed. 

  I was not quite sure where my courage came from. Perhaps it was from my conversation with Aragorn. But from somewhere, I managed to gain the confidence to raise her chin and quickly brush her lips with my own. Just as soon as I did, I barely stayed long enough to catch the look of surprise in her eyes before I moved back to join Aragorn at the head of the group. 

----------@nd@®iel666----------

  Aragorn, who had been lying with his ear pressed to the ground, raised his head and spoke. "Their pace quickens. They must have caught our scent. Hurry!"

  Everyone was moving rapidly across the plain, all determined in their goal, none falling behind. None that is, aside from Gimli…

"Come on, Gimli!" I called back to the Dwarf, who appeared to be hanging behind, out of breath.

"Three day's and night's pursuit…no food...no rest...and no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell," he complained.  

  As we moved, I reflected back. As guilty as I should have felt at my mind's occupants, I had been mostly focused on the mortal woman running alongside her brother, not completely on the hobbits. I had perhaps taken too great a liberty in kissing her, and it worried me that she might be angered. 

  At the same time, I felt guilty for enjoying it. She had spoken nothing of it, and had merely followed orders in a surprisingly diligent manner.

  We followed Aragorn's lead, not only because he seemed accustomed to the nature, but also because I was too preoccupied. He understood this, at least, and allowed me to move at my own pace. He was, after all, in a similar mortal/immortal situation with Arwen the Evenstar. 

  Aragorn paused along our route after some time of moving. He knelt down, and removed an Elvish leaf-brooch from the soil, studying it. "Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall."

"They may yet be alive," I said, filled with a renewed hope for the hobbits. I told myself that I had to stop thinking of my own whims and desires and focus on the Halflings, whose lives were at stake. 

"Less than a day ahead of us, come!" Aragorn arose and began to move rapidly once more.

"Come, _melloneamin_!" I called over my shoulder. "We are gaining on them!"

"Fucking hell," Tommy cried. "I'm not as young as I used to be, for gods sake! I think I'm gonna burst!"

"Join the club," came Carrie's reply, as she full-out ran to keep up. "I should hope I've lost weight doing this."

"Slapper," was Tommy's reply.

"Asswipe."

"Tart."

"Blaspheme."

"Trout."

"Eunuch."

"Owch."

"Heh heh."

  We came to a hilltop, over-gazing the plains below. The scene was quite beautiful, even if it had no competition in my heart with my own homeland. 

"Rohan, home of the horse-lords," Aragorn said. "There's something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets its will against us."

  I had moved to a slightly higher hilltop, to give myself a better range.

"Legolas! What do your elf eyes see?" Aragorn called.

"The Uruks turn Northeast," I called, then frowned. "They are taking the hobbits to Isengard!"

"Saruman," Aragorn breathed. It was obvious now that the hobbits had been captured in the hope that one of them was Frodo Baggins. Saruman was hoping that he had the Ringbearer in his clutches. 

  I glanced to Carrie, as though for reassurance on the matter. She was the only one who knew what was happening, after all. But all I received was a blank look. 

*

"Keep breathing, that's the key! Breathe! Ho!" Poor Gimli appeared to be having trouble with our march across the plains. And I could not blame him, really – the Uruk-Hai were moving faster than I could have perceived.

"They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them," I said aloud, as we ran single file. 

  We ran into the night, tracking, scouting, until eventually, we had to stop. Gimli and Tommy needed rest, and though she denied it, I could see that Carrie was fit to faint as well. The moment we stopped for a rest, she dropped to the ground from where she was standing, adjusted the dressing that secured her arrow wound, buried her forehead in her drawn-up knees, and fell asleep. It was regrettable that it was only a short sleep, but it was a sleep all the same – she had gone too long without it.

  After she was awoken (and she had not been pleased) Tommy passed around his flask, allowing us all to drink the liquid. I suddenly understood Carrie's enthusiasm when she had ingested some of it. It instantly awakened the senses and rid exhaustion at least for a while. I had been tentative about Carrie drinking some, but if we wanted her to move along, we had no choice. Thankfully though, she only got flushed in the cheeks. 

  We began moving again, with a persistence that I think surprised us all. We were all eager to regain the hobbits – although Carrie seemed unsettlingly indifferent. I could only guess that she knew it would turn out okay.

"A red sun rises. Blood has been spilt this night," I murmured, glancing to the sky.

  The sounds of horses' hoofbeats and grunts filled our ears. We all ducked, crouching behind boulders. Many riders on horses were passing us, their armour and mail glinting in the weak sunlight. They rode with their backs straight, their spears held proud. They were men of war – that was obvious straight away. Slowly, Aragorn stepped from his hiding place, the rest of us following suit.

"Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"

  Almost instantly, the riders turned about, and charged towards us, their steeds menacing and impressive. They soon had a tight circle formed around us, with the Fellowship – what was left of it – in the centre, the riders' spears aimed at us from al directions.

"What business does an Elf, three men, a woman and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!" The lead rider spoke with confidence and demanding.

"Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine," Gimli said, perhaps a little arrogantly.

  The lead rider dismounted his steed with a flourish, coming to face Gimli with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

  I instantly readied my bow, loading it with an arrow, prepared to fight for my friend. "You would die before your stroke fell!"

   The riders took the aggressive, moving their spears in even closer. As Aragorn lowered my arm, a voice said, "Maybe we should introduce ourselves, Éomer, son of Éomund."

  I turned, surprised, to see Carrie – the familiar sardonic smile twisting her face. 

  Éomer was also interested. He gave her a dark look. "Do I know you, she-Elf?"

  Her eyes widened at that. I instinctively moved slightly more in front of her, blocking her from immediate danger from these men. She obviously had not expected to be mistaken for an Elf. All the same, she swallowed and said, "Not an Elf, Éomer. I am Carrie. These are Aragorn, son of Arathorn., Gimli, son of Gloin, Legolas, from the Woodland realm, Boromir son of Denethor, and my brother, Tommy."

"We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your King," Boromir spoke up. 

  Éomer gave a derisive snort. "Théoden no longer recognises friend from foe." He removed his helmet, revealing sandy-brown hair, a beard and moustache adorning his features. "Not even his own kin," he finished. The riders withdrew their spears "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over this land. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets."

"We are not spies," Boromir said.

"We track a band of Uruk-Hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive," Aragorn said, with a look upon his face that was almost tired and pleading.

  Éomer said, "The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."

  This news brought Gimli from his silence, with despair and worry in his deep voice. "But there were two Hobbits, did you see two Hobbits with them?"

"They would be small, only children to your eyes," Tommy urged, taking part in the exchange.

  Éomer's eyes were lowered, before he raised them and said, "We left none alive."

  We all seemed to collectively inhale sharply.

"We piled the carcasses and burned them," the man continued. He pointed off to the distance, and I felt my stomach tighten. I could see the bodies piled, with smoke rising off them. Uruk heads were impaled on poles around the slaughter pile, creating a scene that could haunt many a night.

  Boromir stared at Éomer disbelievingly. "Dead?"

  I glanced behind me to Carrie, which I realised was becoming a habit when I had reached times of confusion. But yet again, all I received was a blank look. Nothing from those telltale eyes. I almost wanted to grab a hold of her shoulders and shake her, ask her why she cared so little for the hobbits. Why she was refusing to comfort me.

  Éomer paused before nodding. "I am sorry."  He turned and called out, "Hasufel! Arod! Carlótë!" Three horses came forth, rider-less. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters," he handed the reigns to us. He replaced his helmet on his head, and remounted his steed. "Farewell. Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands." He turned to his riders. "We ride north!" 

  As the riders moved on, we mounted our horses – Boromir and Aragorn on one, Tommy and Carrie on another, and Gimli and myself on another. We rode towards the pyre, our hearts sinking with every hoofbeat. When we reached the site, the scent of burning flesh and muscle filling our nostrils, we dismounted unsteadily.

  Gimli leaned in, and pulled from the pile a charred belt and dagger sheath. "It's one of their wee belts!" He said, tears clogging his voice.

  I closed my eyes, a wave of regret and sadness running through me. "_Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath." May they find peace after death.  Boromir lowered his head, squeezing his eyes shut and clapping a fist to his chest._

  Aragorn gave off a loud yell, kicking an orc helmet and sinking to his knees. We were all feeling great regret and sadness that we had failed those sweet, innocent hobbits.

"They're not dead."

  We all turned slowly, to see Carrie standing next to brother – as always. She was becoming remarkably good at keeping a blank expression. But all the same, she cast an insecure glance at Tommy, before turning back to us. "I'm sure that…if you follow the tracks, you'll see that they lead into the forest."

  Aragorn fixed her with a steady, calculating gaze, before turning his gaze to the terrain. I did not remove my eyes from hers so easily. Her knowledge and brazenness was disturbing me – not because she had it, no. Dínramiel had it. Would disturbed me was the thought that she could govern our fates at the blink of an eye. I was wondering just how much of our fates she had changed already.

"A Hobbit lay here," Aragorn said suddenly, inspecting the tracks. "... and the other…" he ran his hand over the ground. "They crawled…" he moved further along the ground. "Their hands were bound."  He moved further still. "Their bonds were cut…they were followed." Aragorn was growing more excited by now, at the prospect of the Halflings living still. "The tracks lead away from the battle, into..." We glanced up simultaneously. "Fangorn Forest."

  I turned and glanced at Carrie. She stared back with…what was that look?

  Determination. She was determined.

  As always.

"Orc blood!" Gimli cried.

  We were in Fangorn forest, hunting for clues as to the Hobbits' conditions. I was wondering if Carrie or Tommy might tell us how the hobbits were, but they said nothing, and merely allowed the scouting to continue. I was not sure whether to feel angry or exhausted. 

"These are strange tracks," Aragorn frowned, perplexed.

"The air is so close in here," Boromir breathed.

"I'll be having nightmares for weeks," Tommy muttered.

"This forest is old. Very old. Full of memories...and anger. The trees are speaking to each other," I said. I could feel the trees' emotions as though they were my own. It was like a scaled fist gripping my heart. I could hear them speaking…it was hushed, and almost indiscernible, but it was there. A creaking noise seemed to frighten Gimli, and the Dwarf raised his axe, glancing around wide-eyed.

"Gimli!" Aragorn hissed, "Lower your axe!" 

  As Gimli lowered it, I felt a sudden burst of knowledge – a smothering presence that told me that we were not alone. "_Aragorn, nad no ennas_!" I moved forward a few paces, scouting with my eyes. 

"_Man cenich_?" Aragorn asked. 

  What did I see? What did I see…

"The White Wizard approaches." The entire air buzzed with the anticipation. His presence was like a blade lightly running up one's spine, or like ice cold water on a fevered body. 

"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us! We must be quick," Aragorn said quietly. We all prepared, and at the cry, we swung around to attack. 

  We were instantaneously blinded by a bright white light, throwing us off guard.  Gimli threw his axe, but it was deflected – as was my arrow as I shot it at the wizard. I had a million thoughts in my mind – and the most prominent one was a question. _Why had Carrie led us into this?_

  A red-hot glow was seeping along Aragorn's sword, until it seemed to become too hot to touch. He dropped it with a yelp, and stared in wonder at the white glow. 

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits," the wizard said. So the hobbits were safe…

"Where are they?" Aragorn asked.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"Who are you?" Aragorn cried. "Show yourself!"

  Slowly, the glow seemed to die away, and the White Wizard stepped forward. But it was not Saruman standing before us. It was Gandalf. 

  At first, my thoughts did not quite register. I could scarcely believe that Mithrandir was standing before me. I had thought he was lost to use forever. That the one who had kept me in Middle Earth (which I was grateful for) had returned from what had been considered as 'death'.

  And guilt suffused me. Had Carrie not told us that he would return?

"It cannot be!" Aragorn gasped, as I found myself dropping to my knee, joy and respect filling me. "You fell!"

"Through fire and water," Gandalf nodded. "From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought him, the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me. And I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and each day was as long as a life age of the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back until my task is done."

"Gandalf," Boromir breathed.

"Gandalf?" The wizard blinked. "Yes. That's what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name. I am Gandalf the White now. And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide."

  His gaze fixed on Boromir, then to Carrie. She gave him a sheepish look. I watched this wordless exchange with wonder, wondering what it was that they were silently conversing about. A slight smile tugged at Mithrandir's lips, before he began to lead us through the forest.

"I am sorry," I heard Boromir mutter to Carrie.

"Don't worry," she replied. "I probably wouldn't have believed me either." I heard her plant a kiss on his cheek, and frowned. Some part of me instantly told me to apologise as well, which was when I realised that the type of humour she possessed which she called 'perving' was rubbing off on me.

"One stage of your journey is over, another begins," Gandalf said. "War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras with all speed."

  When we were outside the forest, with our horses gathered, Gandalf gave a low, melodious whistle. Seconds later, an answering neigh pierced our ears, and galloping towards us across the plains was a stunning, almost glowing white steed. 

"That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell," I said, awed.

"Shadowfax. He's the lord of all horses and he's been my friend through many dangers," Gandalf explained, fondly stroking the horse's neck.

  I turned, spotting Carrie stepping towards her brother. I knew that Gimli and Tommy were amicable, so I spoke. "Carrie."

  She turned back, her eyebrow raised. 

"Ride with me."

"Oo-er," Tommy said, and she elbowed him in the stomach, a smile threatening to stretch over her face. 

"Perv," she muttered. She glanced to Gimli, who nodded with a slight bow. As she stepped forward, her eyes flicked to Gandalf, and I was humbled to notice a knowing smile on his features. I was still reeling from seeing Mithrandir once again. 

  I mounted Arod, my steed, and held my hand down to her. She took it, and I helped her onto Arod's back, directly behind me, where she instantly wound her arms around my waist, shifting about.

"I've never really ridden a horse before," she mumbled.

"Just hold on tight," I replied, smiling. And with that, we rode off towards our destination.


	19. Edoras, Part 1: Revelations

 A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed! You all have my undying appreciation! So I should answer a few questions:

Bianca: That's actually a very good question, and I was wondering that myself. Somewhere along the line, there had to be someone who first made a Mary Sue, and someone to first use the term 'Mary Sue'. Hmm, wonder who they were? And don't worry – there's DEFINITELY more Legomance! By the way, you mentioned your padded cell…yours wouldn't happen to be the one next to mine, would it? I've tried talking but they keep gagging me lol.

Youko Demon: Sorry, didn't mean to upset ya *hug*

Daisy Princess: Thanks! I was a little edgy about doing Legolas's POV, because there were so many things I wanted – like his confusion with the relationship and the revelation that he isn't immune to her words. I'm grateful you think I succeeded *grin*

Ishiera: The reason I use all the bits about the past is due to a bit of wisdom my dad fed me and that is now my favourite bit of wisdom. And that is 'the past shapes us into who we are'. I've never come across a phrase that is more true. And I'm very much the type of person who constantly gazes into the past to learn from past mistakes or to simply contemplate what I could have done to make things better. I add in all the little anecdotes from Carrie's past because not only do they give more insights on the way things were (e.g. in the Brutus one, not only does it reveal a slightly softer side of Carrie, it also shows what Jack was like pre-Rebecca) and what experiences made her into who she is. It's basically character development – something I think is needed for a character to be realistic and tolerable. 

Marie the Black Rose: Aww, fuck, sorry! I keep doing that, don't I? I guess it's 'cause those translations were from the movie and I kinda forgot that they still needed translations. *bangs head against desk* don't mind me – my brain normally just packs it's bags and goes away on vacation for anything up to a month without telling me lol. But it normally comes back with good ideas! Anyway, the translations are:

_Nad__ no ennas: Something is out there_

_Man cenich_: What do you see

  Right then, back to the story! It's another two-parter *wink* Hope you enjoy, and please R&R!

  ~*~@nd@®iel666~*~

And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be  
All I do is keep the beat and bad company  
Now all I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme  
Juliet I'd do the stars with you any time  
  
Juliet when we made love you used to cry  
You said I love you like the stars above I'll love you till I die  
There's a place for us you know the movie song  
When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong Juliet?

 - Dire Straits, Romeo and Juliet

 I'd done many memorable things in my lifetime. I'd gone on Britain's biggest log flume and screamed my nunga-nungas off. I'd jumped onto a moving roundabout at the park when Tommy wouldn't stop it and cracked my head on the middle bar. I'd gotten my nose pierced twice over a period of two years. 

  But of all the memories I had, I couldn't seem to outweigh any of them with the feeling of being on a bareback horse, with my arms wrapped around an Elf's waist, heading for Edoras to free a king from a wizard's evil clutches. 

  It was too surreal. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating slightly because I was excited at riding with Legolas – even if it was the literal kind of riding heh heh.

  At the same time, I hadn't felt so awkward since my trousers fell down when I was with Reiss on a bouncy castle (when Penny had also had the camcorder focused on me, no less). This awkwardness made me wonder what exactly he was thinking about me squeezing his waist so tight I was acting like a living, breathing corset (though he hadn't told me to lighten my grip on his waist).

  I was never a touchy-feely person. If someone were to hug me and I either wasn't expecting it or didn't want it, I'd probably go as stiff as a board. If someone were requesting a kiss (like my dad normally requested me to kiss Danny) and I didn't want to (I never liked kissing much – and plus, Danny always smelled of vomit) then I would stall it for as long as possible, before finally giving in just to shut them up and run away. I especially hated it if anyone dared to lay a finger on my hair without permission. At school, one of the younger students had once been fiddling with my hair, and I turned around so fast with such an annoyed look that she started crying. After I'd finally decided to take care of my hair, no one touched it but me.

  That was the way I was – I didn't touch things, and didn't expect to be touched in return. I despised closeness of any kind except from close friends and on the odd occasion, when I was feeling sympathetic and was comforting someone in the family. 

  But I loved the fact that Legolas had one of his arms over one of mine on his waist. At first I thought he was trying to loosen the grip, but no such thing. His arm was just…resting there.

  Oh, and he had kissed me. 

  When I was a girl of about six or seven, I asked Tommy why people kissed. Know what his retort was? He said it was the polite thing people did before gettin' wiv da lovin'. And even back then I laughed my arse off. 

  It had taken me completely by surprise. One moment we were talking, the next he'd kissed me – albeit very slightly – and run off. It was like those crazy games the boys tried to play in the playgrounds, except that back then I'd thump them before they tried anything.

  Instead, I just stared at his back, my jaw hanging down. I hadn't been angry or 'squicked'. In fact, I'd been pleasantly surprised. And after five minutes of calling myself a softie, I was still inwardly grinning. 

  But damn, my arse was killing me. Bareback riding wasn't exactly comfortable. But if I tried shifting backward, I'd probably fall off. Shifting forward, and I'd be spooning Legolas. Not that that disturbed me as such, but I didn't want him thinking 'Jesus Christ, we have a nymphomaniac on our hands! Run!' 

  My mind wasn't all on his peculiar actions though. I was happy that Gandalf was back, I had managed to save Boromir…but my sister had left for our world. I frowned. 

  Why was it that just when I was reconciling with them they suddenly just disappeared? It was confusing the hell out of me, and I didn't know what to do. Two siblings gone. What if Tommy left? I wasn't sure if I could handle that. 

_"So, come on then, what have you brought me here for?" Penny asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow cockily. The gesture looked slightly ridiculous on her, seeing as she'd plucked her eyebrows and so little of them were left that you could barely call them eyebrows anyway._

_  I gave her a grim look. "I think we should talk."_

_"And here I was thinking we were doing that already," she sneered._

_"Ah, yes, we are talking," I nodded. "But we're not talking about your slutty habits."_

_  Any sign of mocking dropped away from her face, replaced by anger. "What?! Listen here, Carrie – "_

_"No, you listen," I replied. "Jumping in the sack with Boromir – well, that doesn't seem to have done any harm, seeing as you both saw it as a simple 'quickie'. But trying it on with Legolas, that's going a little too far."_

_  She stared at me for a moment, and I glared back, refusing to back down. There were no parents here, none to stop me from speaking my mind and resolving mine and Penny's disputes. No one to blame me when it was her who drove in the sharpest knives. "You're jealous," she said simply._

_"I don't want to be a tramp," I snapped back. "I have no reason to be jealous of _you_."_

_"You're jealous that I was flirting with Legolas," Penny said, a slight smile on her face. "You think Legolas is yummy scrumboes."_

_"Fuck you," I snapped back. "Don't you realise that anything you could do – _anything _– could change the future for this place? Remember what Galadriel was meant to say? Even the smallest person can change the course of the future. You could change everything__ we have done here for the worse. I've saved Boromir, and that should be as far as it goes thus far. Leave everything as it is."_

_"Who's to say that I'm changing things?" She hissed back. "You've done a lot of things here that will leave imprints forever. This isn't all about me."_

_"Actually, you're wrong," I said, before I could help myself. "It's always been about you. Perfect little Penny with her darling daughters. You could probably get away with murder."_

_  She looked surprised – and this disconcerted me. Penny wasn't a very good actress._

_"_Me_? I think you're on another planet, Carrie. One where you're_ the hard-done-by little Cinderella and _I'm_ the wicked stepsister." __

_  I glared at her. "I don't think so, love. You see, as far as everyone back home's concerned, the sun just beams out of your arsehole. Me? I'm the thing that eclipses it. Hell, I was probably a total accident – an accidental conception. I wouldn't be surprised."_

_  Penny gave me an odd look. "They wanted you. You weren't an accident. All of us wanted you, though what sex we wanted you to be varied…" She shook her head, looking almost sad. "Look, you may feel like the shunted one, but you aren't alone."_

_"What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?" I snapped, but me being the habitual softie I hated to be, I felt my anger slipping away slightly at the look on her face._

_"Let's just say that you're right," Penny said. "I personally don't think you are, but let's just say you're right. No, don't interrupt. Right, I have everyone loving me and preferring me. Fine. But in my eyes, there's someone else who has what I want."_

_  I raised an eyebrow, urging her along._

_"You, you prat," she said with a sigh._

_"Okay, this is getting weird," I said. "First Jack says he envies me, now you say I have what you want. So tell me – what do I have that you want? Instability and grotesqueness?" _

_  She raised an eyebrow. "You're more stable than me. I mean, look at me – I'm seeking comfort by bedding characters from a story." I snorted. "No, Carrie. You've got everything I could never have. You've managed to get a good education, you have talents in art and music – and you have friends. I'd love to have a friend so similar and close to me as __Berry__ is to you. But I don't."_

_  I shook my head. "Berry and Thalia are my only close mates, Pen. That's not many."_

_"But you have mates that are worth the hurdle," she pressed. "Any 'mates' I've ever had have bled me dry."_

_"My life isn't a bed of roses, Penny," I said, frowning. "Sure, I have great mates. I got an education – but I very nearly _didn't_ have that. Aside from that, I'm like the invisible daughter, or sister, or whatever. In the past, you've had mum and dad, Jack, all kinds of family friends – and hell, even _me –_ clamouring over you. And me – I've only got myself, my two mates – three, when Mark was alive – and Tommy."_

_  Penny lowered her eyes. "I wasn't aware that I was in any way better than you."_

_  I gave her a dark look. "And judging by some of the things you've said to me in the past, I'd have thought you were anything but envious of me."_

_  She started to cry silently. I was surprised. I'd never actually knowingly made Penny cry before. I felt twinges of guilt inside, and I instantly felt bad for being so harsh. _

_"I was pretty cruel, wasn't I?" Penny sniffled, sitting on a nearby log. _

_  As I watched her, still standing, something slid into my mind. "You were only doing what I was doing to you," I said softly. "Only we were doing it to each other, because we had something the other wanted. We were too busy feeling jealous to pay attention."_

_  She wiped at her eyes. "I dug myself into this corner where I'm with a guy who's practically twice my age, I've had two kids, and never had good enough grades to get a job. And Leela…she's a monster at times. I'm not cut out to be a mother, Carrie, I'm not…"_

_"Where you went wrong with Leela is because you were feeling guilty for leaving her with mum for the first three years of her life," I replied. "You wanted to make up for it, and thus left the disciplinary ideas to rot in a corner. That's all. You didn't wean her to the appropriate ways. That's still changeable, if you just get this chip off your shoulder, clean yourself up, and do some serious work." I sat next to her. "I know this is gonna sound terribly hypocritical, seeing as I'm an Aquarian, and I tend to focus on the past and what could have been. But you _really_ need to stop doing that – you're a Gemini, not an Aquarian." I grinned at her as best as I could. "You need to realise that focusing on the past too much is gonna be your downfall. If you keep thinking of how good things were and that if you'd only chosen this road, things would have been better – then you've already doomed what you could have done to clean up your life as it is now. And I can say several things you need to do. You need to chuck out that fossil of a boyfriend, you need to get Leela back on line, send her to school, get a nanny and a part-time job…the list goes on."_

_"All of that is impossible…"_

_"No. It's only impossible because you _make_ it impossible. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it." I sighed, and rubbed at my temples. "I, on the other hand, am built to gaze into the past. As an Aquarius baby, I'm a natural past-gazer. But being born as this, I was also naturally born with the ability to pull myself out of the 'what if' state of mind, and focus on what _is_."_

_"You believe in Astrology, huh?" Penny smiled._

_"Very much so," I replied, nodding my head. "I don't know much about it, aside from what I've read about my star sign. But I know it's true, and as much as I look back and think 'I shouldn't have done that', I come back to the present, and I think, 'but I have, and I have to live with it as best as I can'."_

_"I would throw Rob out, but I don't want to be alone," she said mournfully._

_"Well," I said. "I don't really know how to help you with that one. I'm used to being alone, so I've never had a problem with it." We sat in silence for a moment, my mind reeling and my head hurting with the realisation that I'd done it again. Just like I had done to Jack, I'd misjudged my sister. All because I was jealous._

_"I guess I just want to feel wanted," Penny said. "I mean, I feel so great when Jessie follows me with her eyes. Just watching me, you know? It makes me feel…good."_

_  I smirked. "She's probably wondering where your eyebrows went."_

_  We both simultaneously burst out laughing, shaking our heads._

_"I guess we've both been stupid," Penny said eventually._

_"Yeah," I nodded. "We have." I glanced at her. "I'm sorry I let my self-pity drag you down."_

_  She chuckled softly. "I'm sorry I knocked your confidence out of you."_

_  And then she was gone._

  New things were hitting me in the forehead. New realisations that made me feel more world-weary and mature. Things that made me realise that I'd pushed everyone so far away that they'd become unfamiliar to me. 

  I felt Legolas's arm become tighter over mine, and blinked when I realised that my head had fallen forward and my forehead was resting against his back. I instantly pulled my head back, blushing. And as I moved my head, I spotted a city, built upon a hill. It had a very medieval feel to it, and it gave me a sense of wonder – a very childlike wonder that made me reflect on the few history lessons I'd stayed awake during and remember the pictures of medieval castles and boats and armour.

  Gandalf's voice carried over to us. "Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Be careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here."

  We rode towards the city, all riding in a sort of V formation, as we approached the walls of the city. I felt a slight chill run down my back, and I gripped Legolas's waist tighter involuntarily. A slight pain was arcing across my forehead, and I frowned up at the city, where I knew that Saruman's presence dwelled. 

  As we entered the city, Gandalf slung a grey cloak over his white robes, hiding his new status to give him the element of surprise. As we rode slowly through the streets of the city, I saw the people – all wearing black and standing still and silent. It was eerie, to say the least.

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli commented.

  Soon, we were dismounted and walking up to Meduseld. Legolas had held my hand when helping me down from Arod, and hadn't let go of it since. Again, I never was a hand-holding person, so I was surprising even myself by not bashing him over the head. As we approached, some guards came out to meet us, one standing in front of the others. Gandalf seemed to greet them cheerfully enough.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden-king so armed, Gandalf Grayhame...by order of…Gríma Wormtongue," the lead guard said, with obvious distaste at Gríma's name. 

  Gandalf frowned, but gestured for us all to give up our weapons. I handed over my Elvish blade reluctantly, as the others handed over their own weapons without much grace. I kept my pocket knife tucked away, though.

  After we were stripped of our weapons, we started towards the entrance once more, but the guard stopped us. He gestured to Gandalf. "Your staff."

"Hmm?" Gandalf looked at his staff. "Mmm, oh," he said, in a perfectly innocent voice. "You would not part an old man from his – walking stick."

"Arthritis," I nodded. "He's not as young as he used to be."

  The guard nodded, and gestured for us to follow him as he swept into the hall. Gandalf winked at me, and began to follow. Legolas still hadn't let go of my hand.

  As we entered, Gandalf bent over slightly, as though he was very aged and crippled. I grinned. He was better at pulling one then I was. The guard had walked off to the side, and I cast my gaze around, seeing Tommy standing near Gimli – he was hiding a grin. He was obviously looking forward to this little part. 

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden-King," Gandalf called out to the King. Said king was sitting in his throne, looking as though he was partially frozen and in bad need of defrosting. He looked very, very old and zombie-fied. Sitting next to him was a short, evil looking guy who could only be Gríma Wormtongue, with his greasy hair and oily eyes.

"He's not welcome," I heard the little shit say to the king.

"Why…should I welcome you…Gandalf…Stormcrow?" The king wheezed out, resembling Stevie from Malcolm in the Middle. The old man glanced to Gríma, as though seeking reassurance.

"A just question, my liege," Gríma nodded. He rose, and walked towards Gandalf, saying loudly, "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear_. Lathspell_ I name him. Ill news is an ill guest."

"Be silent!" Gandalf barked. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!" He suddenly withdrew his staff, pointing it at Gríma. I watched the look of horror on the filthy rat's face as he said, "Your staff..." He said to the guards in a slow but impatient voice, "I told you to take the wizard's staff!" 

  The guards instantly rushed out, and we broke into fight. I'd handled orcs – men shouldn't be much different. Boromir was battling with ease, used to fights – as was Aragorn. Tommy was using his Tae Kwon Do skills to his advantage. Me, I was using my playground tactics. Namely, I was kneeing 'em where it hurt and throwing punches all over the place_. I'll have to remember to thank Tommy for teaching me to pack a decent punch,_ I thought. 

"Théoden, Son of Thengel. Too long have you sat in the shadows," I heard Gandalf call. I saw Gimli holding Gríma down, as I pulled the blade out of my pocket knife and made a quick slice across a guard's cheek. He cried out in surprise, stumbling back, before hitting the floor after I gave him a hefty kick in the gut. But we all stopped to watch as Gandalf moved ever closer to the king.

"Hearken to me! I release you from the spell," Gandalf continued. 

  Théoden began to laugh. He spoke in a much stronger voice; "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey. Haha!"

  Gandalf suddenly threw back his grey cloak, revealing his whites, specially brought to us by Dazz laundry detergent. Heh heh. 

  Théoden drew back in surprise, gasping. 

"I shall draw you, Saruman," Gandalf said slowly, "as poison is drawn from a wound."

  A woman in white rushed in, her long fair hair billowing behind her. She tried to run towards Théoden, but Aragorn withheld her. _Must be Éowyn,_ I thought blandly, barely taking the time to study her before turning back to Gandalf and Théoden.

"If I go, Théoden dies," the king said in a voice that was much deeper and more disturbing than the king's. Saruman.

"You will not kill me, you will not kill him," Gandalf said.

"Rohan is mine!" Saruman's voice hissed through the king's mouth.

"Be gone!" Gandalf cried. Théoden lunged at him, but Gandalf aimed his staff at him, pushing the possessed king back into his throne, writhing and twisting. After a moment, he fell forward in his seat, bent double. Éowyn broke free, running up to her uncle and supporting his shoulders, pushing him back in his seat. I gaped as the years literally seemed to fall off the king. The frozen zombie appearance melted away, revealing a younger man somewhere in his forties or fifties, with a regal, authoritive air to him. He glanced around the hall in awe, before his gaze fell on Éowyn.

"I know your face," he said. As Éowyn smiled, he studied her face, searching back through his memories. A look of recognition crossed his features, and he smiled. "Éowyn…Éowyn…"

  She smiled, placing a hand to the king's face, tears of joy shining in her eyes. Gandalf stepped towards them, and they both glanced up at him.

"Gandalf?" Théoden said.

"Breathe the free air again, my friend," Gandalf smiled.

"Dark have been my dreams of late," Théoden said lowly. Join the club, I thought.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better... if they grasped your sword," Gandalf said.

  The lead guard came forward with the sword. Théoden slowly pulled it from his sheath, studying it with a silent awe, as the people in the halls smiled and silently rejoiced the return of their king. 

  Suddenly, the king's gaze flickered to Gríma, whose eyes widened. In a matter of moments, the guards had flung Gríma down the stone steps we had not so long ago came up and met the guards. 

"Ah!" Gríma cried in pain. "I've only... ever... served you my lord..."

"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" Théoden growled in reply, walking down the steps after the greasy little bastard, still grasping his sword. 

"Send me not from your side!" Gríma begged.

  Théoden gave a yell, and raised his sword, ready to kill Wormtongue once and for all. 

"No my lord! No my lord!" Aragorn cried, staying the king's hand. "Let him go. Enough blood has been spilled on his account."

"Get out of my way!" Gríma snarled, pushing his way through the onlookers, fleeing back to Saruman. I watched with interest, as the guard called out, "Hail, Théoden, king!" All the onlookers, along with the guards and even Aragorn, knelt before the king, all pleased that he was no longer in the clutches of evil. Théoden, however, had other things on his mind.

"Where is Théodred?" He asked. "Where is my son?"

----------@nd@®iel666----------

  I was alone in my room in the palace, cleaning my Elvish blade, which had been handed back to me by the guards. Gandalf and Théoden had gone to see the grave of Théodred together.

  Soon, the war of Helm's Deep would be upon us. Deep in my heart, I had an uneasy feeling – and I knew that it was because of the sheer amount of Uruk-Hai that would be fighting us to the last. It would make Amon Hen appear like child's play. 

  I was a woman with only Ken Do training and some poor imitations of martial arts moves to go by. I would probably be signing my death certificate by going out to war with the others. But that was what I planned to do. I wasn't doing to stand aside and let the others do the work. I knew that Tommy would go into the war, and I certainly would not stay without him. I sighed and flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The feeling of a bed – whether it be filled with straw or not – was now quite an alien feeling, compared to the ground or Legolas's chest. It was a good feeling, but nonetheless something that had now become unusual and a rare luxury. 

"Are you settled, _melamin_?" 

  I glanced over to the doorway, where Legolas stood. "Is settled as I can be," I chuckled, sitting up again. He moved further into the room, as though reassured I wouldn't bash him or rape him or something. I stood on the bed and began bouncing as best as I could, which wasn't much seeing as Middle Earth beds had no springs.

"What are you doing?" Legolas asked, wide-eyed.

"Regressing back to my childhood," I laughed. "Didn't you ever jump on the bed?"

  Judging by his amused look and slight shake of his head, he'd never indulged in the joys of breaking your bed and being yelled at by your parents.

"Ahh, you haven't lived," I grinned, and gave a hefty bounce off the bed, landing on my feet."

"You are very strange, _morihinamin_," he said, watching as I started to remake the bed, rectifying the mess I'd made. 

  I gave him an amazed look. "How many names do you have for me in Elvish?!" I shook my head, then said, "Teach me some Elvish!"

"I thought you did not wish to learn," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"A girl can change her mind," I replied. "If I learn a little Elvish, I'll have something interesting to put on my resume. 'I speak English, Spanish and Elvish'."

  He sat down on the bed, smiling. "As you wish."

"Ah, what's that in Elvish?" I asked, grinning.

"_Vee' lle merna_," he replied.

  I nodded. "Hmmm, let's see…what's an insult in Elvish?"

  He raised an eyebrow, but said, "_Dolle naa lost_."

"What's that?"

"Your head is empty."

"Gee, thanks."

  He laughed. 

  I was pacing, thinking of useful translations. "What's 'my brother' in Elvish?"

"_Toror'amin_."

"My sister?"

"_Seler'amin_."

"Hmmm. How about 'lusty one'?" I grinned.

"_Rwalaer_," he chuckled.

"My friend?"

"_Mellonamin_."

"Hmmm…oh, how about 'my love'?" _That'll be a good one to say to Johnny Depp if I ever see him in real life, I thought with a grin._

"That…would be _melamin_," he replied.

"Right," I nodded. "What's – huh?" I glanced at him and scratched the back of my head. "Could you repeat that?" _I must have heard wrong, I told myself. _

"It is '_melamin_'," Legolas repeated, giving me a yeah-you-caught-me look. 

  I frowned. "But that can't be…you said…" I frowned, and said, "I'm trying to think of something to say, but nothing comes to mind." 

  Why? Why would he call me his love? It didn't make sense. Unless he was convinced I was still Dínramiel and was planning on going psycho on me. At this thought my eyebrows shot together in a frown, and I gazed at him, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

  He stood slowly, moving closer. I was tempted to take a step backward, but not only was there a small table just behind me, I also seemed to have lost control of my limbs. 

"Yet again, I was uncertain of how to approach you," Legolas said softly. "And yet again, you made that decision for me."

"What about '_lirimaer'_?" I asked, swallowing. "And '_a'maelamin_'?" 

"Lovely one. My beloved."

  So blunt but so sharp at the same time. I was fairly certain that my jaw had disappeared somewhere below me, but I was too busy staring at the Elf in front of me, trying to discern why the hell he'd called me 'my love' or 'lovely one'. 

"Why?" I asked eventually.

  He frowned, looking down. "I know that you feel that I only care for you because you were once my wife. I will not deny that I am familiar with your soul and I love it very much. At the same time, I know that you are someone different to Dínramiel. And still…"

"What are you saying?" I was very, very confused. I knew where this conversation could lead, but didn't believe it _would lead there. This was an Elf – immortal, beautiful…_

  _Don't think about it, I told myself. __If you do, you'll only disappoint yourself._

  Legolas moved closer – ending up close enough to give the idea that we were hugging, except that both of us had our arms at our sides. We were standing cheek-to-cheek, looking over each others' shoulder. Eventually, he said, "What is 'I love you' in Spanish?"

  I almost choked on my tongue. What the hell did he want to know that for? I cast a bemused glance to the pointed ear I could see to my left, and said in a confused voice, "_Yo lo amo." When he didn't move, I finally caught on to what he wanted me to do. "What is it in Elvish?"_

"_Amin mela lle_," he replied, still not moving. 

"You didn't answer my question," I said.

"I thought I did." At my frustrated sigh, he stepped back, and I finally saw the shocking blue eyes. "_Yo lo amo_."

  I could've gone into a dead faint. I pinched myself on the arm. 

  It hurt.

  So I wasn't dreaming this. He had actually said…

"Y-you…" I stuttered. At his slight smile, I said, "Well fuck."

"I am sorry if I have offended you."

  I blinked at him. Then, with a snort of laughter, I said, "What, you expect girls to be offended when you tell them that you love them?!" He blushed. I shook my head, and impulsively hugged him. He was surprised at first, but soon hugged me back. 

  I knew what I wanted to say, and I could feel it on the tip of my tongue – but it wouldn't come out. I was having an inward fight with my tongue, wondering whether to let it out, when I heard Tommy's voice inside my head saying, _you should say these things, otherwise people will never know how you truly feel._

  He'd said that to me one time on the way back from the cinema, when I told him about a particularly cutting comment from Penny, and mum and dad had laughed at it, thinking it was a joke.

  Hearing these words echoed in my head, I said, "_Amin mela lle_."

  And I meant it. Few had put up with my shit like he had, few had understood me like he had – and overall, no one had loved me like he had.

  He stiffened slightly. "_Lle vesta_?"

"…what?"

"Do you promise?" He said.

_  What an odd thing to ask_, I thought, but all the same, I hunted back in my memory for the appropriate word. "_Uma."_

  He pulled back from the hug, and gazed at me with those eyes that had me melting all over the floor. I'd wondered if Elves didn't just smile, but grinned as well. It appeared that they did indeed. 

  When he kissed me, it wasn't light and feathery like the first time, but it wasn't exactly the hard, sharp kisses people did in movies when they hadn't had sex in a long time. In other words, to quote Goldilocks, this one was just right.

  Everything that followed that one kiss would change us forever. It was as though we were imprinting ourselves on each other's skin with every touch. And what was more, it conveyed what words could not. For the first time in my life, I realised that I loved a man – well, technically, an Elf – and that he loved me back. I had conquered my adamant beliefs that all men were scum and had succumbed to one.

  And I was glad that I had. And somewhere along the line, I had cried. Not sad tears. But then, I hadn't thought them happy tears either. I wasn't sure where they came from, but they were there. They lay on my cheeks, the tracks felt like lines of hot water that would leave welts after they'd been wiped away. 

  I was just thankful that for once, they weren't tears of blood.

*

  When I later awoke, I had the shock of my life when Legolas's eyes were open. It took me a few minutes to calm down when I realised that he was in fact sleeping, his eyes glazed and slightly duller. I'd stayed around a mate's for the night once, and had awoken the next morning to said mate saying that I'd freaked her out by sleeping with my eyes partway open. 

  Legolas's were all the way open, and though it was slightly disturbing, I found myself enjoying the fact that I could study his irises without him staring back and making me feel embarrassed. 

  I was feeling a strong sense of familiarity with the Elf now. As though I'd known him for eons. And technically, I had – or at least, my soul had known him. And I wasn't disturbed anymore. I didn't feel as though Dínramiel was an obstacle that still blocked my path. All I felt was…contentment. 

  So lost in thought was I, that when my mind found its way back, I was surprised to see Legolas's eyes without the sleepy glaze, and were once more bright, luminous, and smiling. 

"Took you long enough to wake up," I grinned.

  He smiled. "And you awoke rather quickly."

"What can I say?" I said, stretching. "I'm a bundle of energy."

  He was silent for a moment, and we had one of those moments that always seem too perfect to be real – one of those moments where we simply stare into each others' eyes and need no conversation to lighten the moment.

"_Ten'oio_," he said after a moment. "_Lye nauva alye'na ten'oio_."

"What does that mean?" I asked. He merely smiled. "Fine then, keep your secrets," I said with mock-annoyance. "I don't care."  I paused. "But I am starving."

"At last," Legolas said. "Too long have I waited for you to stop starving yourself."

  I slapped him on the arm. "I don't starve myself. I just haven't had an appetite is all."

"Well then, we must tend to this new appetite, before it leaves," Legolas smiled.

  However, upon reaching the hall (now fully clothed, of course) we saw that there seemed to be a serious conference going on – with Gandalf, Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Tommy, Théoden, and Éowyn all in the room, as Éowyn tended to two children, who were eating broth. 

  Gandalf glanced at us sidelong as we came in. Éowyn instantly made me sit down and eat in a surprisingly bossy manner, while Legolas laughed and joined Aragorn, Boromir, Tommy and Gimli.

"What is happening?" He asked.

"Wild men," Gandalf said darkly. "They are destroying villages, no doubt under the thrall and deceptive tongue of Saruman."

  I earwigged on the conversation whilst I ate. 

"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash," Gandalf said to Théoden. "All the more potent for he is driven mad by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight."

"You have 2000 good men riding north as we speak," Boromir urged, glancing to his companions for support. "Éomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."

  Théoden shook his head. "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Éomer cannot help us. I know what it is you want of me. But I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not," Aragorn spoke up, holding his pipe.

  Théoden fixed Aragorn with a steely glance. "When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan."

  By now, I had finished my food, and was watching the exchanges with mild interest. Only a mild interest though, because I already knew where this would lead. I caught Tommy's eye, and he gave me a knowing glance, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. I tried not to snort with laughter.

"I should be interested to know the king's decision," Gandalf nodded. "And I shall leave you to make it for a short time. Until then, I do believe I have business to attend to. Carolina, if I might have a word in private?"

  I blinked, stunned, before nodding, and rising to move away with the wizard. On the way out, I caught Legolas's eye and smiled.

  Gandalf led me to an empty room, with wooden furnishings and an animal skin rug. There were two chairs, facing each other from either side of a majestic fireplace. Gandalf pointed his staff at the fireplace, and merry flames instantly sprung up, casting a warm glow around the room.

"Impressive," I commented.

  Gandalf smiled, and gestured to the chair to the right of the fireplace. I sat down awkwardly, shifting my butt about in an attempt to get comfortable. Gandalf sat opposite me, and he studied the fire quietly, sticking his pipe in his mouth. Just as I was beginning to get impatient with waiting for him to do something, he said, "We have much to discuss, Carolina. I wish to hear of your decisions along this journey, specifically in regards to Boromir son of Denethor. But that is not the only reason I wish to speak to you."

  I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

  Gandalf nodded, and removed his pipe from his mouth, fixing his wisdom-filled blue eyes on my own hazel ones. "Indeed. In my passing, I learned much. And among my newly acquired knowledge came something I thought might be of use to the both of us." He took a puff from his pipe, drawing the suspense out until I was ready to hit him around the head with his own staff. Just as I was getting ready to do so, he said, "And this knowledge…is why you are here."

A/N: Heh heh. Okay, I know there's a piece of Elvish in here without the translation, but I did that on purpose – it'll be referred to in the final chapter *grin* and sorry I backed out of doing majorly sexy scenes, but I recently discovered that I'm shite at doing them, and I'd only be embarrassing myself. I'm not bad at 'em when I'm drunk, but I cleared the house out of all alcohol when I got my A grade! And in this chapter, I make a reference to tears of blood, so I'd better explain: To me, tears of blood are symbolic of self-harm. Thanks!


	20. Edoras, Part 2: The Morihin

A/N: Hello all! Thanks for the reviews! I have for you now the chapter that explains Carrie's appearance in Middle Earth…hopefully it'll be a surprise – if not, then I've lost my touch lol. 

Kitta-Boo: *draws away in fear* You smacked me!!! Lol

Aiya: I've updated! Please don't kill me!

Bianca: Bloody hell! That has to be the longest review I've ever seen! And dude! How did you know I like Bohemian Rhapsody?? Have I mentioned it before or something? Yes, I do have a habit of yelling in my sleep. You see, I see dead people…heh heh. To be truthful, I'm not all that sure how you say 'I love you' in Spanish because *confesses* I haven't actually taken a Spanish class yet. I'll be taking it in September. But anyway, I had the help of an online translator, seeing as the only Spanish I really know is from this song called Cancíon Del Mariachi and the odd word like 'devil' or 'blood-stained' lmao. Heh heh, anyways, I'll let you get on with the story so that your noodle doesn't make another appearance! I'll try and talk to you tonight through the wall, but they keep threatening to put orcs in my cell if I don't behave *bites nails manically*

Youko Demon: Wow, you have weird Orli dreams too, huh? I had a weird dream where he was invisible from the waist down and kept asking me to sign his boob (WTF???!)

Crimson Starlight: I'm glad it came across as amusing – because I like it when people can find humour in a serious situation (though for me it's normally perverse humour heh heh). If you figure out with the Elvish is, please don't let on to anyone! It probably won't be a surprise anyway, but all the same…

DianaBananna: What exactly classifies a character as a Mary Sue? Because I've never been quite clear on that. But thanks for that anyway! I was trying to make Carrie at least different from all the other Mary Sues, so that it's at least half original. And completely sappy love stories? *throws up violently over keyboard* lol. I'm more of a horror person myself…

KnowInsight: I'm afraid I can't promise no rocky roads…

Right, well, moving swiftly on. This chapter is dedicated to my beta-reader Moni, whose birthday is today! Happy birthday, love, and thanks for your opinions and advice – you've been really helpful! On with the show ;-)

  ~*~@nd@®iel666~*~

With the prophecies you spoke

I kept up with the message inside

Lost sight of the irony

Of twisted faith

Lost sight of my soul and its void

Think I'm; Think I'm unforgiven to this world

Think I'm; Think I'm unforgiven to this world

Took a chance at deceiving myself

To share in the consequence of lies

Childish with my

Reasoning pride

Godless to the extent that I died

Think I'm; Think I'm unforgiven to this world

Think I'm; Think I'm unforgiven to this world

Think I'm unforgiven

 - Creed, Unforgiven

 I'd always cursed the fact that my face was overly expressive. I could try not to grin at someone, but I'd fail miserably. I could only properly lie if I felt that it was a very serious matter and definitely called for it. 

  I was looking at Gandalf deadpanned. 

  But not because I had a masterful control over my expression. No, it was because for a moment, I truly had no idea what he was talking about. My mind wasn't fully on him – I was still feeling Legolas's touch, still hearing him say those words in Spanish…and Elvish…

  Eventually, it dawned on me what the wizard had said, and my eyebrows shot up. "Oh?"

  The reason I was in Middle Earth. Gandalf knew at long last. What I'd wanted for so long was finally at my fingertips…but did I want it now? I'd discovered love – something I'd lost faith in too long ago. If I were to go home…I'd probably have to leave Legolas behind. I wasn't sure I could do that. "A-and," I said, taking a breath to stop my stuttering, "It's because…I'm here to change things…right?"

  Gandalf studied me quietly for a moment, puffing on his pipe. This scene was actually echoing strong déjà vu in my mind – I felt as if I'd done something very similar to this before – sitting opposite Gandalf, with a roaring fire to my right, the glow flickering over the room and bathing everything in a warm light. 

_  The calm before the storm_, a voice in my head whispered. I blinked. 

"I must first ask you on your decision to save Boromir," Gandalf said. "For I also know how he should not have come so far as to see Fangorn forest, let alone Meduseld."

  I frowned, and started picking the skin off my lips. Was Gandalf annoyed at my decisions? "I didn't see any harm in letting him live."

"Indeed," Gandalf nodded. "I am pleased that you have kept the necessary precautions, nonetheless. For example, the little scene in Moria." I nodded, saying nothing. I could think of nothing to say.

"I have also noticed that two of the Fellowship's original members are no longer with us," he continued. I proceeded to tell him about my siblings' departures, biting anything that I could bite – my lips, the inside of my cheeks, my nails. By the time I was finished, I'd moved on to biting the skin around my nails, near enough cannibalising myself. 

"I see," Gandalf said thoughtfully. "And have you any ideas as to why they left?"

  I shrugged. "I'm as clueless as they come."

  He fixed his gaze on me. "I would have thought you would have made the connections by now. Have you contemplated this at all?"

"Not really," I confessed. I paused. "So there's a connection?" At his nod, I hunted back in my mind. What had happened when both of them had left? I'd ignored looking back like this in case I grew to miss Penny or Jack. But now, there was supposedly a connection to their world-hopping. "I argued with both of them. Then we sorted through our differences, and they left."

  I glanced at Gandalf, and saw him nodding, urging me on. I raised an eyebrow. "Are you insinuating that they left because we sorted out or problems?"

"That is precisely what I am insinuating, my dear," Gandalf replied. 

  I shook my head. "How is that possible? I mean, surely we weren't brought here just for that."

"_You_ weren't brought here simply for that," Gandalf replied, "But _they were."_

  I gave him a confused look, and was about to open my mouth to ask more questions, but he suddenly said, "I see that you finally know of Legolas's feelings."

  My partly open mouth slammed shut, before I stuttered out, "W-well, yeah, but by complete accident, you know…we didn't, I-I mean, we…"

"Do not worry yourself," Gandalf said, smiling warmly. "You do not see him worrying, do you?"

"He's very good at hiding himself," I replied, brushing my side-fringe away from my face.

"Or perhaps you have been blind to his feelings? Do not take this as offence, for I only mean that perhaps you did not see it, because you did not believe it could happen."

"Maybe," I replied, rubbing the back of my neck. "But…I'm mortal. And he's heir to the throne of Mirkwood. I'd be ruining things for him if we were to remain together."

"Unless, of course, he feels differently. Carolina, Legolas has never been thrilled over his place as heir to the throne of Mirkwood," Gandalf sighed. "Especially since he knows that Thranduil would prefer Corenian to take the throne." He stared me dead in the eye. "And all that besides…Legolas was always one to act with his heart."

  I blushed involuntarily, before I said, "But if I were to return home…"

"That is if we can find a way for you to return home," Gandalf said. At my surprised look, he said, "I merely said that I know why you are here, not that I know a way back."

  He placed some more weed in his pipe, relighting it. He reclined more, and said, "I feel that I should explain everything."

"That would be appreciated," I said wryly.

"I should begin with how I acquired my knowledge. As you know, I passed through death to become Gandalf the White. And in doing so, I passed through the Undying Lands. And once there…let us use an analogy. It was as though I were a train from your world. I stopped at a station, and more passengers climbed aboard. Only for me, it was knowledge. And yes, I know of your world now. Do not look at me with such surprise. As I was saying, I acquired new knowledge. Among this knowledge, I received information in regards to the odd appearances due to yourself and your siblings. But to instantly tell you of this would be rushing ahead. I should begin at the beginning, seeing as that is where all beginnings begin."

  I shook my head. "What a mindfuck," I muttered.

"Many years ago, Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood was set to marry the Lady Dínramiel, the _Halda'Ithil_ of Rivendell. This seemed like a well-bred match, for they were both of good status and nature. However, they seemed to severely dislike each other. They had a year to become properly acquainted before the wedding, and most of it was spent bickering or they were purposely ignoring each other. But after a while, they became good friends, through some revelations of kinship. From there, they grew to love each other. They seemed like the most blatant of opposites, but that made them all the more special. Familiarity breeds contempt, I believe. They were similar in many ways, yes, but they were also different, if you understand my meaning."

  I nodded. Yes, I understood that very well.

"They married without argument. The fact that they were soul mates had become obvious to them, and they were soon taking great pleasure from one another's company." He paused, and heaved a great sigh. "Legolas only had three proper weeks with his wife. The Elves had noticed the shadow on the horizons, and had been preparing for it. But it was stronger than anticipated. Sauron set his clutches on Mirkwood, slaughtering many. His darkness tainted Men and Elves alike – the Dwarves were harder to reach, in their halls of stone." Gandalf leaned forward and raised my chin with a finger, staring at my eyes. "And that was how the first Brown Eyes came to existence. Sauron's darkness tainted many Elves and Men, turning their normally blue eyes dark – before mutating the Elves fully into Orcs."

  I remembered what I had seen in Galadriel's mirror – the blue eyes flooding with brown. "Dínramiel's eyes were tainted," I murmured, raising a finger to the corner of my eye.

  Gandalf nodded. "Indeed. As was her mind. It was only little things at first, but the insanity gradually set in. They were to remove her to another world for protection, since she was heir to Lothlorien. However, her insanity acted against the Elves. She managed to get herself fatally wounded just before the transference was to take place. In the limbo between worlds, she passed away. Her body remained in limbo somewhere. Her soul, however, passed to the other world."

"Me," I nodded. 

  Gandalf nodded. "And here is where things grow interesting. You see, you were not pulled into this world by myself, or any other Istari. You might be surprised to learn that it was indeed the shooting star that brought you here." I rolled my eyes. "But it was not a shooting star, as such."

  I raised an eyebrow, suddenly attentive.

"Carrie, Sauron himself brought you here."

  I paused, my eyes wide. "Sauron? _He_ brought me here?" I shook my head. "But why? And what about Tommy, Jack and Penny?"

"Sauron only meant to bring you here, not your siblings. You see, the reason your siblings came with you is because of your ties with them. Your soul is relatively old, my dear. It has been around for a very long time. And during these times, you have had many issues with your family – no matter who you were in which life. When Sauron used negative energies to pull you here, the negative energies from you were linked with them. Seeing as they were the only ones near you, they were pulled with you as well. So you see, when you cleared the air with them, the negative energies disappeared."

"That's all very well," I said. "But why is Tommy here? I don't have any negative energy with him – we're fine together."

"That is for you to find out, my dear," Gandalf replied. 

"So why did Sauron want me?" I asked, sighing. This all seemed a little farfetched. Sauron wanted me here. He used negative energies, thus picking up on the severe negative energies relating to my family. Damn.

"Now that is the real question," Gandalf said, puffing on his pipe and blowing smoke rings. "The Elves are actually quite good with prophecies, you see. And a prophecy book was made, to warn of the greatest, darkest and most dangerous prophecies ever to be stumbled across. And among them, there was the _Morihin_ prophecy."

  That sounded familiar. Didn't Legolas call me _morihinamin_?

"In this prophecy, it mentions a woman whose soul had once been of Middle Earth. One of great importance. And it was prophesised that she would complete Sauron's dark plan."

"And how am I to do that?" I smirked.

"By bearing the Dark Child. Sauron's child – that which would help bring about Sauron's victory, and failure for the races of Men, Elves, Dwarves and even the Istar. It would be the apocalypse."

*

I stared at him. "You have got to be out of your fucking mind," I said, standing suddenly. "I am _not_…no! I couldn't be!"

"Carrie…"

"You'd think I'd remember something like that!"

"You didn't remember your passage here," Gandalf said sharply, trying to get me to stop pacing. "And I predict that that was when he impregnated you."

"You've got to be wrong," I said desperately. "I hate kids! Especially the ones with horns."

  He had to be wrong. I felt tears welling up. I wasn't carrying Sauron's demon spawn. It wasn't possible. 

"Have you not experienced dizzy spells? Bouts of sickness?" Gandalf persisted.

"Not enough to be considered morning sickness," I replied harshly. "I mean, come on! My stomach is the same size, I haven't had an appetite. And not enough time has passed properly, surely? You're wrong, Gandalf. Sorry to break it to you."

"Do you honestly think that Sauron wouldn't take precautions to prevent you from knowing?" Gandalf argued. "He has kept the normal human pregnancy symptoms at bay so that things will go flawlessly. Demon children take very little time to mature in the womb. He did not bargain on my return with the knowledge."

  I was afraid. Gandalf had to have developed a sense of humour. A sick one, but one nonetheless – anything to keep this from being true. But the more that I thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. "It's not true," I murmured. "Not true…"

"Come here," Gandalf said. I gave him a look. "I must check, Carrie. You must understand how grave the situation is if you are indeed carrying."

  I flinched, wiping away a few stray tears, and I stepped forward. I stopped in front of Gandalf, trying not to burst into tears. If I really was carrying this…this little bastard, then that would erase all hope – not just for Middle Earth, but for me…me and Legolas…

  What could I do if it was in there? Did they even have such a thing as abortions here in Middle Earth?

  Gandalf raised my tunic and rested his hand on my stomach, frowning thoughtfully. I closed my eyes and silently willed my stomach to be completely empty. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, as I waited for Dr Gandalf's diagnosis. _Please let it be a lie, a mistake, whatever…don't let me be carrying it…_

  Gandalf removed his hand, and I glanced at him. He looked me dead in the eye, and said, "I am sorry."

  I slumped back into my chair, eyes wide. "That can't…maybe it's Legolas's…?"

  Gandalf shook his head solemnly. "This babe is already several weeks past."

  I began to cry silently, burying my eyes in the palm of my hand. I'd always said that children were evil, and that to have one in my stomach would be carrying the spawn of Satan. I'd never actually expected it to be literal, though. Oh, the gods of irony must have been laughing their arses off. "W-what can I do?" I asked, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. "I mean, c-can't we j-just scoop it out of there, or something?"

"An abortion would be fatal, I'm afraid," Gandalf said. "It could be done, but we are not as advanced as your world. To abort the baby is to risk your life."

"By what rating?"

"I'd say, by 80%." 

  I hung my head, feeling a complete feeling of cold wash over me. I understood that the heroic thing to do would be to give up my life and kill the child. But I didn't want to die. Not now. "How long do I have?" I asked weakly, head still hung.

"Two weeks. Three at the most."

  I squeezed my eyes shut. That was too little. Too little time – just not enough. I shook my head, and said, "Can I have some time to think about it?"

"Of course," Gandalf nodded. 

  I stood, trying to get my legs back to normal. My limbs felt as though they were made of jelly. My head was beginning to hurt, with a dull throbbing behind it. 

"Gandalf?"

"Hmm?" I gave him a weary glance.

"I'm not sure if I can tell anyone just yet. And…I'm begging you not to either. Especially not…especially not Legolas."

"Carrie, I…"

"Please," I said, my voice suddenly more calm. "I know that I have made a lot of naff decisions. But I'd like to be the one to say this and…if I choose an abortion…I need to be the one to…" I winced, holding back tears.

"I understand," Gandalf said. "I shall agree to your request, but only if you agree to eventually tell at least Legolas of your decision. He loves you very much." 

  I wiped at my eyes blindly. "And I love him. More than I could have imagined." I sniffled. "I just…I need to help out here for a bit first. And I still have to figure out what to do about Tommy."

  Gandalf nodded. "Indeed." He rose. "Well, we should return to Théoden-King. Perhaps he has finally made his decision."

*

The king, as predicted, chose Helm's Deep. 

"Helm's Deep!" Gimli cried, as what was left of the Fellowship wound through the streets towards the stables. "They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them if not their king?"

"He is only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Boromir reasoned. "Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."

  I remained silent. I was still processing this new information, and I was still feeling very, very unhappy. Who would feel happy, learning they were carrying Sauron's little baby? For a moment, I'd actually wondered on how he got the thing in there in the first place, but then, I realised that it couldn't have been in the most obvious way, because I'd still been a virgin when I was with Legolas.

"There is no way out of that of ravine. Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he is leading them to safety but what he'll get is a massacre," Gandalf said. "Théoden has a strong will but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defences have to hold."

  By now, we were in the stables, and I was gently stroking Carlótë's neck as I listened in. 

"They will hold," Aragorn reassured Gandalf.

"The Grey Pilgrim. That's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of men have I walked this earth and now, I have no time." Gandalf mounted Shadowfax swiftly. "With luck my search will not be in vain. Look to my coming at first light of the fifth day. At dawn, look to the East."

"Go," Aragorn nodded, as he and Boromir patted Shadowfax's rump. Gandalf set out of the stable, casting me a quick smile as he passed. I watched him leave, and I felt that familiar coldness taking a hold of me. He had been the bearer of ill news for me. Questions had been answered, but more had arisen. And the questions had been answered in what was probably the most unsatisfactory way. I had learned that I was carrying the…the satanic child of the master of the One Ring!

"Are you well, _melamin_?" Legolas asked, appearing next to me, holding a saddle. 

  I turned and burrowed into him for a hug, tempted to just fall asleep and never awake again. He rested the saddle on one of the pen doors, and wrapped his arms around me. 

"Just feeling a bit sick," I replied, not really lying.

  He felt my forehead. "You are not feverish."

"Wanna bet," I chuckled.

  He'd become amazingly good at picking up on my perversity. He chuckled, and said, "Ah, but of course. You are truly your brother's sister."

  I raised an eyebrow against his chest. "Of course I am. Otherwise, there'd be no point in calling me his sister."

"How very droll of you, _morihinamin_."

  I stiffened slightly. "What does that mean."

"My dark child."

  I wanted to flinch. I also wanted to kick and scream. But it seemed that the other half of my brain had managed to stop lying dormant and come back into action. I kept control of myself and said, "I need a nickname for you, since you have so many for me."

"Something in Spanish, perhaps?" He said, smiling.

  I grinned. He was making me feel better, I had to admit. If I hadn't been so aware of the fact that Gimli, Tommy, Aragorn and Boromir were nearby, I probably would've lead him into one of the pens. But even I have some dignity. "Something in Spanish, 'ey? Hmmm…_mi amor_."

"Which means…?"

"I don't think I should tell you," I replied. "After all, you kept me waiting for so long…"

"Please?" 

  I couldn't believe it. The git was actually pouting. "N-no," I said, trying not to laugh.

"You are losing your resolve," he said cockily.

"No, I'm not."

  He slowly sank to his knees, glancing up with the best puppy-dog impression I'd ever seen. I heard laughter coming from the back of the stables. "Get up!" I hissed.

"Not until you tell me…"

"I'll tell you, just get up!" I laughed. He rose at last, and I said, "It's the Spanish version of _melamin_."

  He grinned, looking like the cat that got the canary – it seemed like such an odd expression for an Elf that I started laughing all over again.

"You do not look as sick as you were, _lirimaer," he said, planting a quick kiss on my forehead. "My work here is done."_

"Says you," I snickered, then blinked at my own brazenness.

  He merely cast me a smile, as he moved on with his saddle to find Arod. I smiled to myself. No matter how bad my situation was, he had made me feel better. I just wondered how long it would last.

*

"You seem to be quite comfortable with Legolas," Tommy commented, as we ate our food together.

"He's exactly what I've been looking for all these years," I said, putting on a gushy teenager façade. "Pointed ears, a talent with a bow and arrow – what more can a girl ask for?"

"He's a great guy as well, from what I can see," Tommy nodded. "Only I think you may have tainted him with your sex-crazed-monkey persona."

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk," I snorted.

"Believe it or not, I haven't actually flirted with Legolas," Tommy replied, pulling a face. 

"Don't worry, mate. I'll put in a good word for you," I laughed.

"So, we're heading to Helm's Deep," Tommy said, swinging his blade about. 

"Yup," I replied, nodding. "Slaughterhouse deluxe."

"Stupidity extraordinaire," he added, throwing his sword into the air and catching it expertly. He always amazed me with stuff like that – he could know nothing about a sword but within twenty-four hours would be able to do all the spinning exercises and everything. 

"Well, I'm not sure about that," I said, shrugging. "Things will turn out fine. Many will die, certainly. But remember – the battle at Helm's Deep is a victory for men. And Elves, actually."

"Here's to surviving," Tommy said, taking a sip from his flask. He handed it to me.

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Surviving." And I took a big mouthful. _Maybe the alcohol will kill the little fucker in my womb_, I thought darkly. 


	21. Staying To Fight

A/N: Wow, I've updated pretty quickly this time, eh? I couldn't help myself *grin*

DianaBananna: Oooh, so that's a Mary Sue. I was wondering. Thanks!

Bianca: Thanks! I was hoping it would be a surprise – I like surprising people :-D

Crimson Starlight: Well, I took your advice and in this chapter she does call him a 'pointy-eared bow twanger' in Spanish, lol. But translated back into English, it comes back as: twanger of eared with tip of arch!!! And yep, that was definitely planned…

  Right, back to the story. I might just be very confused, but I think this may be the longest one yet! Eek! And also, in it, I had to change some of the original Elvish from the LOTR: TT script into different Elvish, in case I confused myself and others (I'm easy to confuse!). Enjoy, and please R&R! _Amin__ mela lle, melloneamin!_

  ~*~@nd@®iel666~*~

Look at your young men fighting  
Look at your women crying  
Look at your young men dying  
The way they've always done before  
  
Look at the hate we're breeding  
Look at the fear we're feeding  
Look at the lives we're leading  
The way we've always done before  
  
My hands are tied  
The billions shift from side to side  
And the wars go on with brainwashed pride  
For the love of God and our human rights  
And all these things are swept aside  
By bloody hands time can't deny  
And are washed away by your genocide  
And history hides the lies of our civil wars

 - Guns N' Roses, Civil War

 The people of Edoras were moving towards Helm's Deep at a gentle pace, with some on horses and mules and others walking alongside. Some of the mules and horses were laden with goods and supplies. It was quite an amazing sight to see.

  I was riding with Tommy. I had told Legolas he would be needed on hand if anything were to happen, and that he shouldn't concern himself with me when this time came. So I was sitting with my darling brother, realising that this was the closest I'd ever really sat to him, the first time I'd hugged him in a long time, and I was wondering why he was here. Me and Tommy used to have a lot of bad blood – we'd argue continuously, to the point of mum threatening to crack our heads together. He thought I was always trying to steal the limelight, and I thought he was using me as a verbal punchbag.

  But somewhere along the lines, we discovered that we shared the same views on many things. We grew closer, and when Mark's death hit us, we grew closer still in our grief. Since then, we'd stuck together. I clung to our good relationship like a limpet, in fear of him ever forgetting me. I loved his bold ways – his perversity, his skills, his inventiveness, his humour. 

  So generally, I loved him. So why was he here? We had no beef with each other. 

  Eurgh, I hated beef. I'd been forced to eat some before leaving. I only ate a little, until Legolas took pity on me and said I could get away with it as long as I ate Lembas. Part of me truly wasn't hungry. A new part of me, that had sprung up since Gandalf revealed all to me, refused to eat because it thought that maybe if I were undernourished, the baby wouldn't live…

  As I said before, I HATED children with a passion. There were a few like Reiss and my cousin's daughter Rhea that I could stomach. But any others normally grated on my nerves. 

  Maybe if the baby were Legolas's, I would've been happy. Surprisingly enough, as much as it would have been kinda soon, the idea of a family with Legolas wasn't so bad. But anyone else…especially Sauron. Oh, how I wished I could kill him myself for what he'd done to me. 

"It's true you don't see many dwarf women," Gimli's voice bellowed. "And in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance; they are often mistaken for dwarf men."

  Éowyn, who was walking alongside Gimli's horse, turned back to look at Aragorn, who gestured to his face and said, "It's the beards."

  Éowyn was sweet on Aragorn – anyone could see it. The funny thing being – Boromir seemed to sweet on Éowyn. I sometimes felt like running over to Éowyn, telling her that Aragorn had himself an Elven strumpet, and that Boromir was the one who liked her. But I decided to just keep my mouth shut. Not necessarily because I thought it would be the wrong thing to do, but because I really wasn't feeling well. 

"And this in turn has given rise to the belief that there are no dwarf women. And the dwarves just, spring out of holes in the ground! Which is of course ridiculous. Whoa!" Gimli's horse suddenly shot forward, knocking him from its back and onto the ground. "It's alright! It's alright. Nobody panic. That was deliberate. It was deliberate," Gimli cried, as Éowyn ran to help him.

  I heard soft laughter to my left, and turned to see Legolas grinning at the sight of his friend flat on his back. "All it takes is an excited horse to dishevel the stout Dwarf," he jeered, still laughing.

  As Gimli was helped up, he yelled, "Just you wait and see, Master Elf! You will not be laughing when I outdo you in battle!"

  Legolas shook his head, grinning, and I said, "You've bruised his ego, methinks."

"Perhaps that is a good thing," Legolas replied smilingly. "Any bigger, and his swollen head would never fit through the doors of Helm's Deep."

"Sounds like someone else I know," I said, poking Tommy in the back.

"I know I'm the best," Tommy said, buffing his nails exaggeratedly on his arm. "I don't need anyone to stroke my ego for that."

"You do it enough yourself," I nodded, and rolled my eyes. I frowned when I realised my hand was involuntarily rubbing my stomach. I had caught myself doing this a few times, and it was unnerving me. I didn't want anyone to guess what was going on – least of all Legolas. 

"_Lle__ tyava quel are you well__?" Legolas asked._

  I was used to this saying by now – he'd asked me it several times along the journey. I had a sneaky suspicion that not only did he sincerely want to know of my health, but that he also wanted to teach me some Elvish.

"Just feeling a bit sick, _twanger__ de eared con punta de arco." I laughed at his curious expression. "That means 'pointy-eared bow twanger, my dear."_

  He shook his head, smiling. "You do me too much honour, _unguer." _

"Which means…?"

  He grinned. "Hollow one." And then he rode off before I could slap him. 

"You know, he has a point, sis," Tommy nodded. "There's been a few times when I've bopped you on the head, only to be met by this hollow resonating sound…"

  Suddenly, a large animal with an orc astride its back appeared, in all it's ugly, furry glory. We watched in horror as it attacked the lead guard, who we had learned was named Hama, and killed him. Almost instantly, Legolas was there, shooting with his bow and finishing his job with a knife. He turned and yelled, "A scout!"

"What is it?" Théoden asked. "What do you see?"

"Orcs," Aragorn said. "We are under attack!" 

"All riders to the head of the column!" Théoden yelled.

"I should have known that a peaceful journey would be too much to ask for," Boromir said wryly, clutching the reigns of his horse.

"C'mon get me up here, I'm a rider. Agh!" Cried Gimli, who was being lifted onto Arod, and who very nearly fell off again. 

  Théoden turned to Éowyn. "You must lead the people to Helm's Deep. And make haste."

"I can fight!" Éowyn argued.

"No! You must do this. For me." The king turned to the people. "Follow me!"

"Bloody hell," I grumbled.

"Don't panic," Tommy said quietly. "It'll all be fine."

  As Tommy's horse picked up speed, I watched as Legolas, who had been shooting orcs expertly, noticed Gimli and Arod approaching, and swung himself up onto the horse's back. I was impressed to say the least. I even whistled lowly.

"Now, now, Caz," Tommy said. "Now is not the time for flirting and wolf whistling." I grinned. 

  The riders and the scouts with the orcs clashed head on, fighting viciously. Legolas glanced back, spying our horse. He yelled, "Tommy! Keep her away from the fray!"

  Feeling slightly insulted, I called back, "I can fight, you know!"

  Legolas glanced at me with a slight smile, then gave a significant look to Tommy. 

"Sorry, love, the Elf has spoken," Tommy said, and steered the horse out of immediate danger. I glared at Legolas before removing my sword. I could at least chop at any orc that passed by. 

  I noticed Aragorn defending Gimli, who was flat on his bag and buried under several of the weird scout animals. I watched as, in the ensuing struggle, Aragorn and the creature fell off a cliff. I gaped momentarily, thinking, oh fuck, he's dead. But then I pulled myself together, remembering that he wasn't dead at all.

"Not dead," I whispered into Tommy's ear, and he nodded.

  Legolas and Gimli were interrogating a dying Orc on the ground. 

"Tell me what happened and I'll ease your passing!" Gimli barked.

"Where is he?" Legolas said. "Speak up!"

"Ghehehe, he's ... grrhhh... dead. He took a little tumble off the cliff," the orc replied.

"You lie!" Legolas growled. 

  _Oooh__, animalistic, I thought, then scolded myself for thinking in such a way when Legolas was obviously in distress. The orc died then, and Legolas removed…the Evenstar jewel from its hand. I watched as he ran to the cliff and looked down. Gimli joined him soon after, with Boromir close behind._

"Get the wounded on horses. The wolves of Isengard will return. Leave the dead," Théoden said to one of his men, Gamling.

  Legolas turned to look at Théoden, a bewildered sort of anger on his face. I sighed, resting my cheek against Tommy's back. 

"Come," Théoden said, gently placing a hand on Legolas's shoulder. 

  But as the king left, Legolas and Gimli remained, looking down the drop of the cliff in apparent disbelief. I sighed, and shakily dismounted the horse as best as I could, trying not to trip over. I walked over to my two companions, rubbing the sore spot near my collarbone where the arrow wound still ached. 

"My king cannot be dead," Boromir said, his voice almost a whisper. 

  _You sure changed your mind about his status, I thought, but said nothing. Legolas glanced at me with a tortured expression._

"We should leave," I said, and hated the look of disbelief he gave me. 

"You speak as though nothing happened," he said, anger creeping into his voice.

"Something happened, yes," I nodded. "But not what you think."

"You do not mourn him," he accused.

"I do not mourn living men," I said back, perhaps more harshly than I originally intended. He gave me a perplexed look. "I did not steer you wrong with Gandalf, yes? Then trust me on this one. You will soon be reunited with your king of Gondor."

  He gave one last glance down the cliff's drop, a contemplative look on his face, before he said, "Come. Let us move before the wargs return."

  I let out a breath, relieved that we were finally moving. I once again had my hand on my stomach, and just as the others passed by me, I turned away and ran to a secluded spot, where I vomited quite violently. Damn you, Sauron, I thought darkly, trying to remain on my feet. 

  I straightened up, slowly making my way back. I noticed that the riders were just re-gathering the last of the equipment that had been knocked off their horses in the attack. I walked towards Tommy again, as he sat astride Carlótë. I stopped next to the horse, preparing to mount it, when a voice said, "_Melamin_."

  I glanced behind me, and saw Legolas back on Arod, alone. 

"Forgive me for stealing your companion," Legolas said. Tommy nodded. 

  I was helped onto Arod, only this time in _front _of Legolas. But I barely noticed much that was going on. My head was spinning, my vision blurred slightly. My stomach was still churning, and for the umpteenth time I cursed the Dark Lord for doing this to me. And as I slowly drifted into a sleep, leaning back against the Elf behind me, I could have sworn I felt the thing I had dubbed 'Damien' kick in my stomach.

----------@nd@®iel666---------- 

  When I awoke, we were at Helm's Deep. Théoden had already made the decision to send the women and children into the caves, but I knew I wouldn't be going.

  I had not seen Legolas yet, and instead had been with Tommy and even Boromir. When Boromir had mentioned the decision about the caves, I said bluntly, "I won't be going."

  He had raised an eyebrow. "I do not think that the Elf would agree to that…"

"It is not his decision to make," I replied, pulling out the leather strap and tying my hair tightly into a messy bun. 

  Not too long after, Aragorn rode into Helm's Deep. Boromir had been standing beside me at the time, and upon seeing Aragorn, he gave me one of the most amusing expressions I'd ever seen – almost as though he was impressed, but was also constipated. 

"Where is he?!" Gimli bellowed, pushing through the crowds. "Where is he?! Get out of my way! I'm gonna kill him!" When he found Aragorn, his whole demeanour changed to one of emotion. "You are the luckiest, the canniest, and most reckless man I ever knew! Bless you, laddie!" He hugged the Ranger.

  Boromir went to him, clapping him on the shoulder, and Aragorn returned the gesture, smiling slightly.

"Boromir, where is the king?" Aragorn asked. Boromir gestured with his head, and Aragorn followed the general direction, walking with his head down until he almost ploughed into Legolas. 

"_Le ab-dollen_," Legolas smiled. "You look terrible."

  I noticed Éowyn spotting Aragorn, and suddenly looking much more cheerful. She started over to him, but froze, when she saw Legolas handing Aragorn the Evenstar jewel.

"_Diola__ lle," Aragorn said, clasping it in his hand. _

  And not too long after that little emotional prelude, Aragorn decided to bring back the shits and the fans. Only this time, it wasn't for Amon Hen.

"A great host, you say?" Théoden asked grimly.

"All Isengard is emptied," Aragorn replied. A host of orcs were heading to attack Helm's Deep. Aragorn had seen them on his journey back. 

  I was standing off to the side, not seeing how I would be important to this conversation. I only seemed to really be comforting people so far. Oh, and carrying the Dark Lord's little brat. Eurgh. 

"How many?" Théoden asked.

"Ten thousand strong, at least," Aragorn said.

"Ten thousand?!"  The King's eyes widened.

"It is an army bred for a single purpose: to destroy the world of Men. They will be here by nightfall," Aragorn explained quietly.

  I glanced to the king, and watched the subtle changes in his expression as he said, "Let them come."

  He walked outside, the rest of us following him. 

"I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms, to be ready for battle by nightfall. We will cover the causeway and the gate from above. No army has ever breached the deeping wall or set foot inside the Hornburg."

"This is not a rabble of mindless Orcs," Boromir warned. "These are Uruk-hai. Their armour is thick and their shields broad."

"I have fought many wars, Boromir son of Denethor. I know how to defend my own keep," Théoden replied. I couldn't help but think him arrogant. "They will break upon this fortress like water on rock. Saruman's hordes will pillage and burn. We've seen it before. Crops can be re-sown. Homes rebuilt. Within these walls, we will outlast them."

"They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops or villages. They come to destroy its people. Down to the last child!" Aragorn said.

"What would you have me do? Look at my men. Their courage hangs by a thread. If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance!"

"Send out riders, my lord," Aragorn urged. "You must call for aid."

"And who will come?" Théoden argued. "Elves? Dwarves? We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead."

"Gondor will answer," both Aragorn and Boromir said in unison.

"Gondor? Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell? Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us? Where was Gon…no, my lord Aragorn, my friend Boromir. We are alone," the king said with a sort of forlorn tone in his voice.

  He turned away, ordering Gamling to get the women and children into the caves. I sighed, rubbing my temples.

"He will not call for aid," Aragorn said, a hint of anger in his tone. "This is folly!" He looked to me. "Carrie, I have rarely – if at all – asked for your guidance. I request that you at least give me a hope."

  I paused, wondering what to say. Eventually, I said, "You needn't worry about aid. It will come, whether you believe me or not. You won't be fighting alone."

  Aragorn gave me a calculating look, before he nodded. "Thank you. I have at least some hope in my heart for the people."

  With that, he turned back to Boromir and Gimli. Tommy, I noticed, was chatting up a poor woman who was blushing like crazy. He hadn't lost his charm.

"Walk with me, _melamin?" _

  I glanced at him, and nodded, following him and letting him choose a path to walk. The first few moments were spent in silence, during which I admired the view. And I'm not necessarily talking about the landscape…

"Is what you said to Aragorn true?"

  I gave him a confused look. "Why would I lie?"

"Perhaps not lie," Legolas replied, "But attempt to give a sinking heart something to stay afloat with."

"I didn't give him false hope, if that's what you mean. Help will come." I cast a glance at him, and smiled slightly. Even though the sunlight was weak, it still seemed to love him. It was as though he always had a spotlight shining on him. It made me feel very drab sometimes. It's always a pain for the woman, when her bloke is prettier than she is.

"_Melamin_, we do not have much time…" he started.

"Much time? What do you mean?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Before you leave for the caves," he replied. _Here we go, I thought._

"I'm not going."

  He gave me a surprised look. "You must! All the women and children must go to the caves."

"But I choose to stay," I replied, crossing my arms and facing him.

"You cannot," he said, drawing up in height. I almost laughed aloud. 

"Forgive me, but I don't see what the problem is," I said.

"The battle is too dangerous," he said. "It is no place for you."

"You weren't saying that in Moria or at Amon Hen," I said darkly.

"We had no choice at either of those places," Legolas argued. "And those battles were mere trifles compared to the one that faces us here. At least in those battles I could protect you."

"I don't need protecting! I can handle myself."

"_Melamin_, please…"

"I was not brought here to cower with the women and children," I snapped_. No, I was brought here to carry the morihin…_ "I will not hide in some cave whilst my brother and my love are fighting possibly to their deaths. I will leave neither of you behind. I will fight."

  I raised my chin, staring him directly in the eye. Disbelief, then anger flashed through his eyes, and with a frown, he whirled on his heel and left. I took a breath, and turned away, wiping away the tear that had started to fall down my cheek. _Must be the hormones kicking in, I thought sadly. I hadn't meant to hurt him or anger him. Surely he could see my predicament? I couldn't leave him or Tommy behind, knowing they were teetering on some metaphorical cliff whilst I was practically sitting and drinking cocoa, saying, 'ha ha, suckers'. I couldn't do it._

  I was afraid, definitely. Ten thousand strong Uruk-Hai were nothing to be trifled with. And I had practically no battle experience. 

  With a sigh, I turned back and started to walk away.

*

  Women and young children were being taken into caves. Husbands and sons were taken and given weapons and armour. Some of them were barely half my height. It made me feel sick to my stomach, and it brought the true desperation of the situation home. I would have loved to be at home, playing a computer game and listening to music, not preparing for battle. But I just scolded myself for these weak thoughts and forced myself to watch these horrors before me.

"Farmers, farriers, stable boys. These are no soldiers," Boromir hissed, looking just as disgusted as I.

"Most have seen too many winters," Gimli said.

"Or too few," Legolas piped up, his voice laced with anger. He hadn't spoken to me since I had refused to go into the caves. The others had been surprised, especially Tommy (who had also tried to get me into the caves) but had to take it with a pinch of salt when I gave them all the dirtiest look I possessed. Legolas seemed resigned that if Aragorn wouldn't force me into the caves, there was no hope. He hadn't met my eye once, and had kept up a haughty tone and almost derisive attitude to everyone ever since. "Look at them. They're frightened. I can see it in their eyes." He cast a pointed look to Aragorn. "_Boe__ a hyn: neled herain... dan caer menig!?"_

"_Si__ beriathar hýn ammaeg nâ ned Edoras," Aragorn replied blandly._

"Aragorn, _nedin__ dagor hen ú-'erir ortheri._ Natha daged dhaer!"_ Legolas argued hotly. I felt guilty for working him into such a stew._

"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn snapped, and with these words, I realised the general gist of what they had been arguing about. Legolas believed they would all die. I bit my lip and looked to the ground. Aragorn stormed off, and soon after, Legolas stormed off as well.

  I sighed loudly, shaking his head. 

"He's pretty angry," Tommy said, raising an eyebrow. "What did you say to him?"

  I winced. "That I wouldn't go into the caves."

"Well, it is a stupid decision," he shrugged.

"Is it now?" I said darkly, glaring, before forcing myself to break down my fury. "You obviously don't understand my sentiments."

"I do," Tommy said quietly. "But I don't think you understand mine. Or Legolas's, for that matter."

  I was about to snap something back, but I sighed, and said instead, "You'd be surprised."

"Go find him, lassie," Gimli said. I nodded, and pushed myself away from leaning against a pillar. I followed the general direction Legolas had taken, rubbing my churning stomach unconsciously. I rolled my head about, smiling grimly at the loud crunches and clicks. I massaged my arrow-wound, then rubbed at the spots where I'd been hurt in Moria. I hadn't taken good care of the self-inflicted cut, and I knew that I would scar there. A nice big scar across my upper arm. The one on my chest seemed to be becoming a very faint scar. The arrow-wound ached every now and then, but it seemed to be settling nicely due to Legolas's careful treatment.

  I'd come out fairly injured, when you think about it. Sure, I had no broken bones or severely damaging wounds, but these wounds were still pretty damn amazing compared to my norm. 

  Legolas had been there through all of these wounds, and had kept calm. He probably didn't want to see something bigger than an arrow going through one side of my body and out the other. 

  I found him sitting on one of the walls, his legs dangling over the side, as he looked down the forty-odd feet to the ground. He looked lost in thought, as the moonlight touched his features. I wondered briefly if I wouldn't be welcome – if he'd turn me away. I was tempted to turn away and forget I'd ever come after him. But I stayed put for two reasons. The first being that I knew he'd probably guessed I was there. The second being that I wanted to at least try to explain myself to him, and smooth over the rough edges.

  So I took a deep breath and slowly walked over. He didn't move. I leaned my arms on the wall, looking over the edge tentatively and flinching at the height. After a moment of wondering how many people had fallen over the edge and splattered like a bag of soup (how very morbid of me) I said, "A long time ago, when I was about four or five we lived in this neighbourhood where things started out okay at first. It was a perfect little spot, with vast fields behind our house, and many village lanes – especially one in particular where we would take Brutus to go and play with the cows. You remember I told you about him at Lothlorien. My darling dog. Anyway, in this neighbourhood, there were quite a few other people. We knew them all, and were on various levels of acquaintance with all of them. But that started to deteriorate. I'll probably never understand why they hated us so much, but I suspect it was because of a certain man who hated us – I think he started spreading rumours and stirring things up. Our next door neighbours, once our friends, hated us with a passion. Now, they had a son who was two or three years older than me. Will, I think his name was. Anyway, Will was once my friend – but that soon changed. He started threatening me and bullying me. But what the point of this little anecdote is is this: he was threatening me with a stick once, ready to whack me with it. And Brutus ran over, knocked me down – scraping my knees and making me bleed – and stood over me, growling and snarling whilst Will practically wet himself and ran off."

  I gave him a sidelong glance. "Brutus knocked me over to protect me – he hurt me, but that little bit of pain was nothing compared to what it could have been had he not helped me. Do you see?"

  Legolas was still for a moment, before nodding. 

"I may have hurt you in refusing to run off to the caves," I whispered, "but I was only doing it because in my twisted way, I was protecting you and my brother – two of the most important people in my life."

"I reacted childishly," he said blandly.

"You reacted as I probably would have," I replied with a shrug. "Did I mention that I'm fickle?" He smiled slightly. I stared back down at the view below me – men and boys sharpening swords and kitting up. I took a breath:

"_Talk to me softly  
There is something in your eyes  
Don't hang your head in sorrow  
And please don't cry  
I know how you feel inside I've  
I've been there before  
Somethin' is changin' inside you  
And don't you know  
  
Don't you cry tonight  
I still love you baby  
Don't you cry tonight  
Don't you cry tonight  
There's a heaven above you baby  
And don't you cry tonight_." (Guns N' Roses, Don't Cry: Original version)

  He swung himself off the wall, and took my hand. I glanced at him, and saw in his eyes what he meant. I smiled softly, and followed him, so that we could spend at least some peaceful time together before we had to go to war.

*

  Later on, we were together again at the same wall, looking down on the scenes before us. Our hands were entwined, as we stood shoulder-to-shoulder, both of us hoping to eradicate the knowledge of the less-than-savoury war that would soon be upon us for at least a while, so that we could enjoy each others' company in peace.

"Legolas?" 

  He glanced at me with a slight smile, his eyes warm. 

  I didn't know where the thought had come from, but it seemed like a good idea. I removed my tiger eye necklace, studying the subtle shift of colours in the beautiful golden stone. I stared at it for a moment, before slowly pulling it over his head and around his neck, straightening it.

  He stared at it wide-eyed. "Carrie! This is your tiger-eye necklace! I cannot take this."

  I suddenly realised how similar this was to the scene with Arwen and Aragorn. With a smile, I said, "It is mine to give to whom I will. Like my heart."

  He smiled back, and gave me a sound kiss. He tucked the necklace away into his tunic. "I shall never take it off."

  I smiled. My neck felt bare, now that I was left with only Galadriel's necklace, but that could be dealt with. It gave me an oddly comforted feeling to know that Legolas was wearing the tiger eye necklace – as though he now had a part of me to protect him.

"_Amin__ mela lle," he said._

"_Yo__ lo amo," I replied, grinning. I was feeling better knowing that he was no longer angry with me. _

  Legolas sighed. "I must apologise to Aragorn. My behaviour was unacceptable."

  We found Aragorn putting on his armour. Legolas already had armour on – well, he had rather snazzy shoulder armour, anyway. He'd picked out some armour for me, too. Namely, similar shoulder plates, a helmet, and chain-mail. I felt several inches shorter, which miffed me a little – something I'd always valued was my height. But one thing I'd done was prance about, claiming that I was Xena: Warrior Princess and was waiting for Ares so I could jump him. When Legolas had asked, "Why would you wish to jump on someone?" I had been reduced to hysterical giggling.

  Legolas handed Aragorn his sword. "We have trusted you this far, you have not led us astray. Forgive me. I was wrong to despair." 

"_Ú-moe edhored_, Legolas," Aragorn replied.

"Could you say that in English?" I said. "It's harder to earwig when you use a language I don't know."

  They cast me amused glances, before Aragorn said, "As you wish. There is nothing to forgive, Legolas." I nodded, grinning.

  Gimli appeared, wearing some chain-mail. Chain-mail that was a little too long for his short physique, dragging across the floor as he moved.. "If we had time, I'd get this adjusted. It's a little tight across the chest."

  I chuckled. Suddenly, a horn sounded from outside the gates.

"That is no orc horn!" Legolas said.

  We all rushed outside, with me grinning like the Cheshire cat at the fact that I'd been right. On the way out, I spotted Tommy, standing next to Boromir. He was decked in some very fancy armour, and I gave him a grin. "Hail, Sparticus!" 

"Lick my boots, Xena!" He replied in a comically deepened voice, as he pulled a stance. 

"Don't push ya luck, love," I replied.

"Is this what I think it is?" He asked, raising an eyebrow (and said eyebrow disappeared inside the top of his helmet). I nodded, grinning.

  The gates opened, and in marched an army of elves, in gold, blue and white armour. And did I mention that all Elves are rather easy on the eyes? 

"How is this possible?" Théoden gasped, as the Elves began to line up. Aragorn shot a satisfied smile my way.

"I was never one to say I told you so, but," I paused. "I told you so!"

  Haldir himself stepped forward. "I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. An alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honour that allegiance."

"_Mae govannen_, Haldir!" Aragorn said. "You are most welcome."

"We are proud to fight alongside men once more," Haldir said.

  I smiled. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all…


	22. Battle At Helm's Deep

A/N: Hola, mi amigos! Heh heh, sorry I haven't updated as quickly as normal – I've been stewing over this chapter for a while, since my muse hasn't been shitting on my shoulder. Yes, I do mean shitting – it's an in-joke with my mate from a misspelling lmao. It's been a hard chapter to write, but I hope I've made it at least half decent.

Bianca: Yeah, I LOVE Queen! I haven't heard too many of their songs, but they're very good.

Marie the Black Rose: *slaps forehead* I am such a prat! Sorry, I keep forgetting the translations! The reasons I don't give them during the speech is because the story is from Carrie's POV, and she doesn't understand Elvish. I keep forgetting to put the translations at the bottom *blush*. Well, here:

_Le ab-dollen_ = You are late

_Diola__ lle = Thank you_

_Boe__ a hyn: neled herain... dan caer menig!? = And they should be... 300 against 10,000_

_Si__ beriathar hýn ammaeg nâ ned Edoras = They have a better chance defending themselves here than in Edoras_

_Aragorn, nedin dagor hen ú-'erir ortheri.__ Natha daged dhaer! = They cannot win this fight. They are all going to die!_

_Mae govannen, Haldir_! = Well met, Haldir!

saiyan-cheetah-girl & Zachana16: I wouldn't dream of letting Haldir die! He be awesome!

underthesky: Yep, it is indeed named from the Aerosmith song – I'm a fan of those guys too *grin* the song Falling In Love Is Hard On The Knees will be used in the next chapter – which is also the final chapter. Hmm, sounds like you like a lot of the same music I do

Crimson Starlight: Everyone seemed to like the Xena comment lol. Yeah, I tried to call him pointy-eared bow twanger but the Spanish version of it was a bit odd lol!

Chibi Chingo: There's a lot of things Sauron shouldn't have been able to do – but he did. How? Well, it was mostly with the help of Saruman. In my mind, it was a plot between the two of them, and they worked this little plan using something akin to artificial insemination (Carrie was still a virgin when she and Legolas were together)

  The translations for the Elvish on this page are at the bottom – well, most of the Elvish. The one line from the Revelations chapter that I wouldn't translate is back *wink* but don't worry, that'll be sorted in the next chapter. Anyways, the rest of my author notes are at the bottom, so as not to spoil the chapter. Read on! R&R much appreciated!

  ~*~@nd@®iel666~*~

I'm lookin' down

Now that it's over

Reflecting on all of my mistakes

I thought I found the road to somewhere

Somewhere in His grace

I cried out

Heaven save me

But I'm down to one last breath

And with it let me say

Let me say…

 - Creed, One Last Breath

  Saruman's army was approaching. It was like a swarm of vultures on the horizon – only not nearly as docile. This was the stuff of horror movies – and I loved horror movies.

  But I wasn't sure if I loved this.

  No, I didn't love this. Not at all. 

  We were standing behind a wall, high up from the ground and just watching and waiting, as the black swarm of Uruks approached, with their fire torches scorching the landscape. 

  I stood between Legolas and Tommy, with my back as straight as I could get it. I was trying not to hyperventilate or swallow my own tongue, and instead, I was focusing on imagining what was happening back home – if Jack was finally back to normal. If Penny had booted Rob out on his stupid ancient arse. 

  I sighed, frowning at the approaching army. It seemed as though there was too much I had to do – and it was all overwhelming me. I had to stay alive long enough to figure out how to send Tommy back. I had to think of a way around the fucking Morihin problem.

  I glanced sideways at Legolas. How would I tell him about the demon child? How would he react?

  He caught my glance and smiled.

"_Lle_ tyava quel_?" He asked._

"Not really," I replied truthfully, swallowing. "I'm feeling kinda inferior right now." 

"I will aid you as best I can," Legolas reassured. I smiled at his promise, but at the same time, I knew in my heart that he couldn't be everywhere at once – fighting alongside Aragorn and Gimli and protecting me. But I bit my lip and let him reassure himself.

  Aragorn approached where we stood, and looked out seriously at the army, Boromir not far behind. Boromir had been shadowing the Ranger so much I was beginning to wonder if they really had a purely platonic relationship, but then I remembered Aragorn's little Elven woman at Rivendell. If she hadn't gone to Valinor, of course.

"Well lad, whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night," Gimli said. Lightning flashed, as if it were a really creepy omen.

"Your friends are with you, Aragorn," Legolas nodded.

"Let's hope they last the night," Gimli added wryly. I smirked. 

  As Aragorn and his shadow moved along a bit, I glanced around for Tommy.

"I don't think I was cut out to be a warrior," I whispered.

"Why's that?" He asked, grinning.

"Well, you don't see Xena tripping over her own feet, do you?" I snorted, before proving my point. I was actually stepping backwards and forwards to keep myself warm and preoccupied – but all I was doing was knocking myself over. Luckily, Legolas managed to catch me, laughing heartily as my helmet tipped forward, obscuring my view. I stood up straight and sorted it out, blushing furiously. "Er, thanks."

  I noticed the odd look Haldir was giving me and I glared at him pointedly. A slight frown broke out onto his face, before a small smile overtook his features. "Yes, I see," he nodded. "Nothing has changed at all."

  I shook my head. Another Dínramiel worshipper. I glanced up at Legolas and noted that he'd clenched his jaw, as he looked down at the army. What was bothering him? Well, I wasn't going to ask – just in case I risked some kind of humiliating outbreak between him and the Lórien Elf. "You'd be surprised," I replied to Haldir, receiving a sharp glance from him and a small smile from Legolas. 

"Did I miss something?" Tommy asked, attempting to scratch the back of his head but scratching the back of his helmet instead.

"I'm a reincarnation," I replied with a shrug.

"Oh," he nodded, then frowned. 

  A flash of lightning lit the sky, and thunder decided to ring out, bringing with it a heavy rainfall. 

"Typical," I muttered. "Of all the times for it to rain. Couldn't do it on the path from Rivendell, no. Has to do it when I can't appreciate it."

"It's all very ominous, isn't it?" Tommy said, tilting his head. "Like one of those war movies."

"I never much went for war movies," I said. "I preferred the ones that had ghosts and mutants and monsters better. Or, hey, Children of the Corn!"

  He laughed. "Yeah, if I remember rightly, you wanted to take lessons from Malachai."

"He was so bloody cool when it came to it," I grinned.

"He was a murderer," Tommy said.

"That too," I chuckled. "He was also very, very evil."

"And you always support evil."

"Only in the movies."

"And the computer games. In Diablo II you were actually hoping you'd lose, if I remember rightly, so that Diablo could win."

"Diablo was awesome," I nodded. "That demon was very well done."

"_A__ Eruchin, ú-dano i faelas a hyn, an uben tanatha le faelas," Aragorn said._

  I gave Legolas a confused look, and he translated, "Show them no mercy, for you shall receive none."

  The Uruk army were very close now. Close enough that they saw fit to just stop. They stopped and stood, just facing us, doing nothing. The silence drew on – no sound but the rain and the odd clap of thunder. I clenched my jaw as I studied the army.

"This is your last chance, _melamin," Legolas whispered. _

"I'm not going," I said, swallowing. He was giving me one last chance to run for the caves. With a sigh, he nodded, and Haldir gave me an incredulous look before turning his attention back to the army. 

  The silence from the Uruks, aside from the odd growl, was unnerving. No moving, no noise – R. Kelly really wasn't kidding in his song when he said that silence was loud. 

"What's happening out there?" Gimli barked impatiently – he was too short to see over the wall.

  Legolas smiled. "Shall I describe it to you? Or would you like me to find you a box?"

  Gimli laughed heartily. Legolas's jibe reminded me of my mum – how she was fairly short, and I would always tease her about needing a boost-up to get into bed. It was quite nostalgic. 

  The Uruks began stamping the ends of their spears onto the ground, eliminating the silence. It seemed to be a cue, for Aragorn drew his sword, and the Elven soldiers began to ready their bows. Some of Théoden's archers followed the example. 

  Boromir drew his sword, and Tommy and I soon followed suit, still staring at the army as they banged their spear-ends on the ground in what seemed to be a mocking way.  It was a stand-off of sorts, with men and Elves silently watching with their weapons readied as the Uruks thumped away on the ground. In that moment, I felt the truth of the fact that I was the only woman present hit me square in the forehead. I could do what I'd done all my life and kid myself that I was just a very confused bloke or something, but I doubted that would work. I bit my lip, forcing my mind to stop roaring with sickening scenarios and possibilities. 

"_Lye nuquernuva sen e dagor_," Legolas said.

"I have no idea what you just said," I nodded. "But I'll take your word for it."

  Suddenly, one of the men accidentally let loose an arrow. It embedded itself quite remarkably into one of the few weak spots the Uruks had – the piece of neck exposed just above the breastplates. The thumping instantly stopped, as Uruks and men alike stared in horror at the beast with the arrow protruding from its neck. It might have been comical if the seriousness of the fact had not been so potent. 

"_Dartho!" Aragorn cried. _

  The Uruk that had been shot fell forward, dead as a dodo. The Uruks stared in what seemed to be astonishment, before roaring and charging forward.

"And so it begins," Tommy muttered, swinging his sword expertly. 

  Aragorn barked out random orders in Elvish. "_Tangado__ a chadad!" _

_  I can't understand you_! I thought angrily. _For fucks sake, man, try English_!

"_Faeg__ i-vary…dîn na lanc a nu ranc!" Legolas said. "Their armour is weak at the neck and under the arms," he translated to me. I nodded, pleased that someone seemed to remember that I was a mere mortal._

"_Leithio_ i philinn_!"_

  This was obviously some kind of signal, for the Elves let their arrows fly, some hitting their targets expertly (though I couldn't see very well because the wind was blowing rain into my eyes). 

"Anybody hit anything?" Gimli asked.

"Give them a volley!" I heard Théoden order.

"Fire!" A voice cried out. 

"_Ribed__…had!" Aragorn yelled. _

"Send them to me!" Gimli cried eagerly. "Come on!"

  I watched in horror as arrows flew in all directions, and Elves and Orcs fell. I felt as though I were a baby, placed in front of a two-thousand piece puzzle. I was watching lives disappear before my very eyes – lives of beautiful, ageless beings, and lives of the feral, distorted demons of darkness, as they waged a war which suddenly seemed very bleak. 

  But I had to hold on to the fact that things would eventually be okay. 

"_Pendraith!" Aragorn yelled._

  Confused, I glanced up, and saw ladders raising up the sides, bearing Uruks on them ready to meet the men on our level, more Uruks climbing rapidly. I clutched my sword tighter, staring wide-eyed at the scene before me. Braveheart had nothing on this (though that may have been because neither the Scots nor the English looked like slimy mutants badly in need of a trip to the dentist). 

  Before I knew it, I was flung into the battle. I ducked as a sword zinged close to my head, and swung my own blade up to meet it as it came back. We lashed blades together, me and this Uruk, pushing each other back before the other would begin a vigorous attack forward. Eventually, I got bored of this, and feinted a swing to the left. The Uruk went to follow, and I swung my sword up in the other direction, taking off its arm. As it screamed, I took the opportunity to raise my foot to its stomach and push. It fell over the battlement wall into the crowds below.

  I glanced over the wall, breathing heavily, when something hard hit the side of my head. I hit the ground, seeing stars, and tried to gather my wits, when I felt the attacker stand over me. It was a Uruk of course, its eyes glowing yellow, almost as yellow as its teeth (or were its teeth brown? Hmmm). I realised, panicked, that my sword wasn't in my hand. I spotted it near the wall, and glanced up at the Uruk. It raised its blade high, and just as it brought it down, I rolled out of the way, silently thanking Reiss for the practice in dodging (he loved to jump on me). I grabbed my sword, and sliced at the Uruk's leg, but only weakly – meaning I barely caused a gash. The beast roared, before grabbing me by the throat and lifting me up.

"A _woman_?" It snarled. "These menfolk must be desperate."

"No, not desperate," I replied, as cockily as I could as my air supply grew thinner. "They just didn't have high prospects of the enemy." 

  Let me just give some advice. If you are in a fight, be it with orcs or anything else, and your opponent has you by the throat or another vital part of your anatomy – it's not really a very good idea to insult them. I discovered this when its grip increased tenfold. I couldn't move my sword enough to swipe at the Uruk. My head was getting fainter, and my neck _really_ hurt – not only were the Uruk's thick hands clutching my neck, but its long fingernails, very jagged and cruel, were digging into my neck in certain places. It was in no way pleasant. 

  The Uruk gave a surprised gasp, before falling forward, taking me with it. I cried out as I hit the ground (though I'm proud to say it wasn't in a high-pitched squeaky girly way, but a low, growling manly way) the Uruk partway on top of me, a dead weight. Dead being the operative word, apparently, as I noticed the arrow sticking out from its mangy hair at the back of its neck. 

  A hand was extended to me, and I allowed myself to be helped up, only to come face to face with – Haldir. His hair was slightly mussed up from battle, and he had blood stains down his front, but he didn't look too bad. I was merely surprised it had been him who had helped me – for some foolish reason, my mind hadn't perceived him the saviour-type. 

"Uh, thanks," I groaned, rubbing at my neck, and pulled my hand away with a frown when I noticed that it was slicked with blood. Haldir quickly led me to a spot where we wouldn't be found for at least a minute or two, and placed his hand on my neck. I was very surprised, and was ready to kick him to shit, but then I felt warmth flowing from his hand, and the pain receding from my neck.

  When he moved back, I rubbed my neck, blinking. "Wow, nifty," I murmured. "Can all Lórien Elves do that?"

"Nay," Haldir said. "Few can. The cuts are gone – you may bruise lightly."

  I nodded. "Thanks." He nodded, handed me my sword, and ran back to the battle. I was just staring after him meekly – not a good idea when war rages around you, I know. I was just confused. In minutes, I'd disposed of one orc, almost been strangled by another, saved and healed by a snobbish Elf…

  _Lord, give me strength, for I fear for my sanity, I thought, before taking a deep breath and running into the fray. A Uruk with its back to me became run through with my sword. Another soon found its leg missing. I was beginning to feel enlightened, but of course, not all good things last. _

  I found my cheek yet again the target for a Uruk fist. The same blow also split my lip open. I stumbled, stunned, feeling the blood running down my chin. I spun into a kick, and when the Uruk grabbed my leg, I decided to try out the movies. 

  It worked well at first – I jumped, swinging my other leg round and getting the Uruk right in its ugly mug. The bad side was that when it dropped me, I didn't do the nifty landings Jackie Chan and Jean Claude Van Dame did. Instead, I landed on my arse, cursing Sauron for bringing me to Middle Earth, and cursing the movies for making things look so bloody simple. 

  I quickly ran the Uruk through whilst it was still holding its face in surprise. I then did a backwards roly-poly, and screamed. I found myself sitting between an Orc's legs, as he stared down at me. But trust me – it wasn't his face that was the horrible sight. I did another backwards roly-poly, trying to get away, fearing for my poor, fragile mind. At the same time, doing my roly-poly, my feet caught the Uruk's trousersnake addendums mid-roll, both fucking up my roly-poly and giving the Uruk a new view on pain. I finished my sloppy roll and turned just in time to see the Uruk stumbling about, clutching its crotch and moaning. An arrow hit it, causing it to drop to the ground, and I was pulled up once more – this time, by Legolas. 

"Are you well?" He asked, looking almost exhilarated by battle. 

"I'm alive, if that's what you mean," I replied shakily. "I wouldn't have been, though. Luckily, Haldir is a good shot as well as a healer." I rubbed my neck, frowning.

  Legolas nodded. "I apologise for my negligence."

"Don't worry about it," I replied, wiping my blade on one of the orcs' fallen bodies. "You have your own problems to worry about."

  He nodded, gave me a quick kiss, and sprinted away. I sighed, still embarrassed from my botched roll and nut-crunch. 

  I jumped, when I heard Aragorn yelling, "_Togo__ han dad, Legolas! Dago hon! Dago hon!!!"_

  I worriedly peered over the edge, and watched in horror as Legolas shot two arrows into an approaching Uruk bearing a torch, but failed to kill it. The Uruk jumped into a hole, and bang. 

  Saruman must have discovered something very akin to gunpowder, if not the substance itself – for the wall exploded in a shower rock and stone and dust, killing men and orcs nearby. Helm's Deep had been breached. And Saruman's army began to go through the hole in the wall, breaching the fort. 

"Brace the gates! Hold them! Stand fast!" Théoden was yelling. I found myself breathing heavily, my fear growing. I had pains in my cheek, some twinges in my neck, aches in my arse, and my lip was sill bleeding slightly. 

  I watched as Gimli jumped, landing among the Uruk soldiers. 

"Gimli!" Aragorn yelled, then cried, "_Hado_ i philinn! Herio_!"_

  I glanced around, suddenly remembering who else was in the battle. I stared in amazement as my brother fought viciously. His martial arts experience, his natural affinities with weapons, and his good aim from the archery he had taken when he was younger had made him into a decent warrior. He was doing very well – a few cuts and bruises, but he was pretty much fine. 

  I turned back, just in time to see Legolas using a shield to surf down some stairs, shooting as he went. I shook my head in amazement, before redoubling my fighting efforts, slowly working my way around the walkway as I pushed my opponents back. My arms were growing tired, the muscles clenching up and complaining – I had cramps in my calves, and my injuries were hurting. I was not in a good condition, but I fought on, every now and then stopping to pillage the odd weapon or two from dead Uruk bodies (I found it disrespectful to even consider taking anything from dead Elf or even Men bodies). The extra weapons helped me take out more orcs, and even do double attacks – I could feint with my sword, and stab with a throwing knife. 

"_Nan_ Barad!___Nan_ Barad_! Haldir! _Nan__ Barad_!" I heard Aragorn yelling. _

  I was surprised to see that Haldir was not far away from me at all. I saw him nod to Aragorn and turn to yell to the others. Not too long after, an Orc sliced his arm. Haldir clutched his arm to himself, looking shocked and disbelieving. Unease settled in my stomach, especially when I saw another Uruk approaching him from behind, bearing an axe.

  With a startled gasp, I removed a throwing knife I'd pillaged, pulling it from my boot. I ran forward, shoulder-barging many out of my way. As the Uruk rose its axe, I ran at a pace that surprised even me. I reached it just as it began to bring its axe down, and before I could consider what I was doing, the arm holding the knife moved around its neck, the knife held at its throat. I pressed the knife in, and pulled. I slit its throat neatly. 

  Haldir turned, stunned, as the Uruk fell, and I was left holding the knife, staring at the blade with bemusement. He looked at me with wide-eyes – a look that seemed odd on the arrogant Elf's face. 

  Another Elf ran over, looking at Haldir worriedly. I gave them both a quick smile, before turning away and running back through the crowds, ducking punches and leaping over dead bodies. I had to find my brother. 

  And find him I did.

  He was fighting valiantly, killing like he had done so many times before. I watched him, entranced, my eyes wide. And I watched as he brought down the last Uruk – not noticing another one preparing to drive a spear through him.

  _Not Tommy._

  I felt my mouth open in a silent scream, as I realised the implications. For the second time, I lurched forward, running at top speed. I could not let my brother die, I couldn't. Not like this. 

  _All my fault, I thought, as I charged forward. __He wouldn't be here if it weren't for me. All my fault._

"Tommy!" I yelled.

  He turned around, stunned, his blue-grey eyes peeking out from his helmet. His eyes widened in horror, as he realised that the spear was thrusting forward, towards his gut. I could see the look on his face – a mix of horror, surprise, and resignation. He thought he was going to die. 

  Thought. 

  Yes, _thought. He wasn't going to die. I knew he wasn't. For I was now standing in front of him, facing him, and pushing him back. The orc's spear found a new target._

  This was nothing compared to what I had done with Boromir. I felt so much pain that it took over my entire being momentarily, and I was just paralysed. I could feel myself going into shock, as jolts shot through my body. And a billion thoughts rushed through my mind. Of Legolas, as he would grasp my chin with his fingers and just stare into my eyes, as though they were the most interesting things in the world. Of my family, as we all sat together for a photo, laughing. Or friends, lost and found. 

  I had read the tarot reading wrong. For once, Death literally meant just that.

  As I realised this, an odd calm settled over me. I didn't cry out or sob as I sank to my knees on the battlefield, my heart echoing in my head. I gulped, staring down at the spear that was protruding from my stomach. I never was good with biology, but it was obvious that this was pretty bad. The pain was immense, as it swamped my senses.

  I glanced up to see Tommy sink down in front of me, his eyes wide and shining…tears? 

_  He doesn't cry much_, I thought distantly. _Why is he crying?_

  And I realised then that I was crying too. The tears had been slipping down my cheeks without me noticing, and landing on the ground that was stained with the blood of good and evil. I stared at him through blurred eyes, seeing his face…the face that had protected me in dreams and even in the waking world. 

  My heart was swelling and shrinking alternately, as the irony of my life hit me – for once, it was emotional pain erasing the physical pain, not the other way around.

  I was fading away. I didn't have to be an A-grade student to know that. I was kneeling, close to death's door, in front of my brother. I didn't know how long I had left, but I had a peculiar feeling of elevation, then sinking. I realised that it was Sauron, bitterly trying to save the _Morihin. _

  I gazed into Tommy's blue-grey eyes, and my own words echoed in my head. 

_ "But why is Tommy here? I don't have any negative energy with him – we're fine together." _

"Carrie," he said, his voice strained, as he stared in horror at the spear. 

  I knew why he was here. I should have known it before, because I'd tormented myself with the very fact once when I was in our world. I couldn't believe I had been so blind as to not see it before.

"Hey you," I whispered, struggling to get my voice past my lips. I forced a smile to him, realising that more tears were welling in my eyes, hot and unbidden. They blurred my vision and weakened my smile, but I tried to keep it in place all the same.

"Carrie, don't…" He whispered, his voice tight and scared. Some of the tears slipped past my eyelids, as I swallowed. He looked so small and meek then – such a contrast to his normal self. He had always been the brave brother I looked up to. To see him in pain, with such feebleness…it hurt me more than the spear did. 

  _Don't you understand? I thought, studying his horrified features. __Don't you see any of this? I clenched my jaw, trying not to sob, as I cradled my body with my arms, kneeling forward slightly, my head still raised to look into Tommy's eyes._

"B-but _why_?" He asked, his voice thick. "Why did you do that?"

  Emotion rose in my throat like bile, making me choke on my first attempt at words. My heart was contracting painfully, my face twisted into the best smile I could muster. 

  I reached a grazed, blood and dirt covered hand to his stubbly cheek, wishing I could have had more time to tell him. Wishing I could have explained everything I'd ever done to him so that he at least could understand. I wished I could have turned back time so that I could stop his aches, and breathe fresh life into him – no less than he deserved. 

  I was still crying silently, my tears running down my face in hot, painful streaks as the salt made small scratches scream in protest. I was growing fainter by the moment, and I had to tell him. I had to. 

"Y-you truly don't understand?" I rasped. He shook his head, tears gathering against his bottom lid, as he reached up to my hand and grasped it with his own, squeezing it tightly.

"I d-don't think you realise everyth…everything that you've done f-for me in the past," I said, sniffling. "Y-you can't know to the e-extent of which you've given me reason to go on. You've been m-my shining star, Tommy. M-my torch in the tunnel. I w-wish I could've had the courage to t-tell you this to your face before. I really do."

  He was crying properly now, and the sight of it pained me so, so much. I gave off a strangled sob, and continued, "And I wish – I wish things could have been different. I would have loved to have had the time to g-go fishing with you, or have you sh-show me how to swim. Every moment with you has been precious," my lower lip trembled, and more tears fell. "You've s-saved me in so many ways, and you d-didn't even know."

  I licked a tear off my upper lip, and leaned forward slightly, squeezing his hand. "D-don't you see?" I leaned forward slowly, and placed a kiss on his tear-streaked cheek, trying not to sob all over him. As I pulled back, I looked into his teary eyes.

"You understand me where others don't," Tommy said, his voice tear-clogged. "You can't leave."

  I gave a desolate laugh. "I don't think I have a choice, love." I gazed at him, and said, "_Yo__ lo amo. Amin mela lle." Then, "I love you, Tommy. I sh-should have told you so many times, but I was too – I don't know. S-self-conscious, maybe. You're one of the g-greatest brothers anyone could ever hope for."_

  I'd realised why he was here. He needed to know my love for him, just as I needed to know his for me. I'd always been too afraid to say it. 

  He'd needed to know just how precious he was to me.

"I love you Carrie," he said, tears spilling at random from his eyes. "I - I'm sorry..."

"D-don't be," I replied weakly, trying to stop the torrent of tears from my own eyes, but failing. I looked him dead in the eye, and said, "You saved my life. And now I'm giving it away to save yours."

  As he gave a strangled sob, and kissed me on my cheek, he slowly faded out of vision – leaving to go back to where we all originally came from.

  I stared at the spot where he had been. And I smiled. I'd finally told him what I'd been worrying over for so many years. Maybe now, he could finally feel his worth, and realise how important he really was to me. 

  _Never forget me, I thought, closing my eyes tight, squeezing out more tears in the process. _I won't die if you never forget me_._

"Carrie!"

  Aragorn knelt beside me. I glanced at him with a weak smile, looking into his kind and concerned green eyes. "Tommy's gone home," I said, my voice thick. "Y-you don't have to worry about him anymore."

  He studied the spear, and a look of desperation crossed his face. He reached out slowly for it, but I said, "Don't."

  Even if there had been a way to save me, which I doubted, I realised that it was important now that I remain. If I went down, I'd take Sauron's _Morihin_ prophecy with me. And I'd have saved so many people…

  I felt the faintness begin to take a stronger hold. The end was nigh. I took a deep breath, forcing the ringing from my head, and glanced up at Aragorn.

"T-tell Legolas…_amin__ mela lle. I won't ever forget him," I wanted to cry again, thinking of my love. But I clenched my jaw. I had been lucky – I'd had one last moment with him, whereas many didn't even have that with their loved ones. _

  Aragorn nodded sadly, his eyes clouded. 

"E-everything will be f-fine," I choked out. 

"Thank you, Carrie," he said quietly. "_Namaarie__, mellonamin."_

  And it was then that an incredible cold washed over me. I smiled to myself, before allowing the blackness to wash over me, content that I had done everything I could. 

  I died there, on the battlefield of Helm's Deep.

  But not before these words rang in my head. _Ten'oio__. Lye nauva alye'na ten'oio._

  A/N: THIS IS NOT THE END! There will be ONE MORE CHAPTER! Do not panic! Lmao. Trust me, there's one more chappie to come. Until then, I believe I should give you translations for all the Elvish:

_Lle__ tyava quel = Are you well?___

_Lye nuquernuva sen e dagor = _We will defeat them in battle

_Dartho__ = Hold___

_Tangado__ a chadad = Prepare to fire___

_Leithio__ i philinn = Fire the arrows___

_Ribed__…had = Fling…hurl___

_Pendraith__ = Ladders_

_Togo__ han dad, Legolas! Dago hon! Dago hon!!! = Bring him down, Legolas! Kill him! Kill him!!!_

_Hado__ i philinn! Herio = Hurl the arrows! Charge!___

_Nan__ Barad! __Nan__ Barad! Haldir! _Nan___ Barad = To the Keep! To the Keep! Haldir! To the Keep!_

_Namaarie__, mellonamin = Farewell, my friend_

  Until the last chapter, namaarie, melloneamin *wink*


	23. Final Answers

 A/N: Here it is! The final chapter! Thanks to all who reviewed, and there's more notes at the bottom. Enjoy!

  ~*~@nd@®iel666~*~

I just wanna feel real love  
Feel the home that I live in  
I got too much love  
Running through my veins  
To go to waste  
  
I just wanna feel real love  
In the life ever after  
There's a hole in my soul  
You can see it in my face  
It's a real big place  
  
 Come and hold my hand  
I wanna contact the living  
Not sure I understand  
This role I've been given  
Not sure I understand  
Not sure I understand  
Not sure I understand  
Not sure I understand…

 - Robbie Williams, Feel

 My eyes snapped open. I saw nothing. But then, I was nothing, right? Nothing but…but _what_? What was I? 

  And if I was nothing, how could I see? How could my eyes be open? Was I in heaven? Or hell, maybe? Or was I stuck in limbo somewhere, torn between worlds? 

  Too many questions…my head felt too full, too cramped…where was I? I blinked my eyes. And I saw.

  It was a bedroom. But not my dolphin bedroom. This bedroom had blood red walls and a red wine coloured carpet. I glanced at the covers thrown over me. The duvet was burgundy with gold mystic suns, moons and stars. The same pattern was littered on the pillowcase. 

  This was not my bedroom. 

  I sat up feebly, my eyes darting around, clutching my duvet to my front. This was so different to the pink and blue bedroom I knew I had. With the dolphins and the wolves – instead, there seemed to be numerous birds of prey – eagle ornaments, posters of eagles and falcons. And the room was an entirely different shape, for fucks sake! So what was it?

  I stood up, my legs shaking, and made my way over to the pine desk that held the computer, studying it for some sign of recognition. The computer didn't look familiar – the monitor was bigger than I remembered, with stickers around the edge (some of them being self reminder notes, including one that said 'don't be a pillock, DO NOT forget to call Annaree'). There were two owls on top of the monitor – one a fluffy snowy owl teddy, the other a rubber/plastic toy of a snowy owl. On top of my computer tower was a tawny owl teddy. The desk itself was littered with miscellaneous items – a box of small square pieces of notepaper, a stationery system holding writing implements, a hairbrush with strands of dark hair caught in the bristles…

  I frowned at this and reached out, picking up the brush and pulling the strands out. It certainly looked like my hair. I continued to glance around, spotting all sorts of weird things, including a hidden stash of Baileys Irish Cream under my desk. At long last, my eyes noticed an odd bump on the desk under a messily strewn black t-shirt. I moved the t-shirt aside, and picked up a photo frame. It was of me, with…Berry? 

  My eyes widened. 

  I had died at Helm's Deep.

  So where was I? Had I somehow been catapulted back to my world when I'd died? Was my mission there to simply die, so that I could come back to this world? What was going on?

  Where was my love, _melamin_, _mi amor, my Legolas? _

  No. It hadn't been a dream. It couldn't have been a dream!

  But every piece of evidence suggested this.

  Tears of desperation welled in my eyes. It couldn't have all been a dream, not something so real. I had come to love Legolas, I'd loved him so much. It was too cruel. 

  I ran to the wardrobe and flung the door open, looking into the mirror. I looked exactly like I had in Middle Earth, except that I was wearing jeans and a jumper. I'd fallen asleep in my clothes. Not just that, but my eyes looked puffy, as though I had been crying, with eyeliner smeared under them and faint black lines on my cheeks – tear tracks mingled with makeup.

  It can't have been a dream…it can't have…

  I was wearing the necklace Galadriel gave me! The ivory claw clasping the blood-red stone had been resting inside my jumper until I noticed the chain and wrenched it out almost violently. I almost whooped with delight, but froze.

  My eyes flicked to a corner of the mirror. A picture of me and a boy who looked vaguely familiar. I reached out and pulled it off the mirror, turning it over in my hands. Written on the back, in my handwriting, it read: Andariel and Lewis. 

  Memories flooded back to me. I wasn't Carrie. I was Andariel. Carrie was…a dream. I stumbled back, hitting the back of my legs on the bed and slumping onto it, staring wide-eyed at the picture. The boy…was my brother Lewis. He had similarities, though he was slightly different…and I remembered his personality…whoever I was now remembered his personality…he was Jack. 

  Carrie had all been a dream. So had Legolas. The reason I was wearing the necklace…it was a gift. A gift from a friend of the family. I remembered that now.

  I stared at my bedside table. Sitting on it was a dog-eared copy of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, a bookmark protruding from halfway through the thick book. And I felt my heart plummet. I had read the book before sleeping. I'd had a tough night because…because of an argument with my boyfriend. I hadn't wanted to sleep with him, and he'd gotten angry. So I'd come home. Read for a while, then fallen asleep.

  Then dreamt about the love of my life.

"This isn't possible," I whispered. "He was so real…he was mine. Why was he taken away from me?"

  And another thought hit me in the stomach. _How can I live if I can't have him? He was my soul mate…_

  Certainly, I'd had dreams where I'd met Mr Right. But none of them had been so real, so vivid, so sensational…

  And I'd topped the lot with this one. And in doing so, I'd killed myself. There was no Carrie. There was only Andariel. 

  There was a knock at the door, and it swung open. In walked Rosen. I stared at her, momentarily stunned, before I shook my head. She wasn't Berry. She may have looked similar – but she couldn't have been. Surely…? _It's just a dream similar to Dorothy's, in the Wizard of Oz_, I tried to tell myself, but it hurt. God, did it ever hurt.

"Come on, Andy, get your butt into gear!" Rosen ordered, grinning like a loon, not looking at me but going to the window to throw open the curtains. "Get changed! We gotta get to London for the Lord of the Rings premiere."

  I winced. The premiere. Lord of the Rings had been made into a movie.

  I burst into tears.

"Andariel…?" If she hadn't noticed my state before, she certainly did now.

  I buried my face in my hands, and between sobs, I found myself saying, "Carrie…Carrie…"

"Who?" Rosen blinked, and she sat next to me, on the bed, putting an arm around my shoulder, obviously confused at my state. And it was like this that I blurted out everything about the dream – everything. By the time I was finished, I'd gone through half a loo roll from wiping my eyes and blowing my nose. 

  Rosen was silent for a moment, just studying me.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" I asked shakily, tearing a piece of tissue up nervously.

"Of course not," she replied. "But…that dream seems a little too complete, a little too life-like to have just been a dream, if you get my meaning."

"Oh, I hear you alright," I sniffled. "Jesus, I hear you."

"And you really loved Legolas." I nodded. "Which is amazing in itself, because you've never cared about any man in such a way, bar your brothers and father." I nodded again, a slight smile on my face. 

"I was trying to tell myself the dream was because of all this Lord of the Rings movie hype," I muttered, shaking my head. "But…it's too real, Rosen. I really feel as though I've lost something." That was an understatement. It was as though I'd lost my right hand and could never sign my signature again (unless I trained my left hand, of course, but that just ruined the analogy).

"I…don't know what to say to you, Andariel," Rosen whispered. "Except that anything is possible. You yourself have dreamed about things you couldn't possibly know about and found out that they were true. Predictive dreams. Anything is possible."

  Anything is possible…more tears slipped down my cheeks as I smiled slightly. Anything was possible…even my dream's events. My dream. I shook my head. Now I was being stupid, surely. I couldn't honestly be thinking that my dream was real! Now I was just being plain ridiculous. 

"Come on," Rosen said. "Even if you're all freaked out over this dream, I think that getting out will do you good. Get changed, honey. Let's go to the premiere…"

----------@nd@®iel666----------

  It was raining. I loved the rain. But right now, I barely noticed it. Standing in the crowds with Rosen, waiting for the oh-so-brilliant actors to finally haul their arses up the red carpet, I was still trying not to burst into tears. _No more Legolas, my mind chanted. __No more Legolas…no more Legolas…no more Legolas…_

  I looked down at the ground. The rain was soaking my bare arms – the vest top I was wearing was growing wetter by the moment, but I didn't care. My leather jacket was slung around my hips, my eyes down cast. _No more Legolas…no more Legolas…_

  I was pulling the memories from my mind. Our first time together at Edoras…him called me _melamin_…him hugging me as I fell asleep on our last night in Lothlórien…those eyes…that hair…

  I swallowed hard. The screams of the fans right next to me barely even registered. Have you ever lost anyone you really, _really_ loved? Or at least, have you ever woken up from a dream to discover that Mr Perfect was, in fact, a dream? It's too painful. I felt as though my ribcage had been pulled open, and my heart ripped out. My mind was like a scene stuck in replay. I was replaying every moment I had spent with my love.

  It had all been a dream. Painful, but true. Too painfully true.

"Here they come," Rosen hissed excitedly into my ear. She pulled some of my wet hair back for me. I did nothing. In my mind, I knew I was reacting childishly to some wistful dream that was a true tragedy. A psychological fuck-up.

  The screams grew louder around me. The actors were walking up the red carpet now. I flinched, not wanting to see my Fellowship hacked to pieces by actors, trying to be those complex people but failing miserably. But I raised my eyes anyway. My heart stopped.

  No. Not possible. There they were. Good god, they looked so damn similar…no! Of course there were differences. The hobbits were taller, and they wore normal clothes. How was this possible?

  I knew how. I'd obviously seen pictures of the actors somewhere, and my mind had made up the rest. "Fuck," I whispered to myself, tears welling up once more. I'd really outdone myself with this dream. No self-harm could compare to what I was feeling because of the after-effects of the creation of my stupid fucking mind. I bit my lip painfully, hating every second of watching my Fellowship walking up the red carpet. Elijah Wood…Frodo. So alike, yet so different. Why? Why was this happening to me? Why did I have to dream something that in the end made me feel fifty times worse than any nightmare ever could?

  And that was when _he walked up the carpet. Different, of course. Short dark hair, sort of peaked in the middle, the short hair revealing his ears. Rounded. No points. His eyes were dark, a nice chocolate brown. There was a slight growth of beard and moustache, very faint but there nonetheless. He was wearing a navy silk-like suit, with a rather garish bright blue top with black dots and a similarly daring tie. Very weird choice of clothing, but I didn't really mind. I was too busy gaping. Despite these differences, everything was the same. The same build, the same face shape, the same smile._

  I was slowly dying inside. I had seen a picture of him somewhere, no doubt, and made him into the most perfect person in the world for me – someone I could love. I shook my head, biting my lip harder, drawing blood. His name echoed in my head – I'd obviously heard it somewhere. _Orlando_ Bloom_… _

  I had to leave. I couldn't stand this. I turned to leave, when he looked right at me. It was all I could do to look back. Sure, his eyes weren't blue. But they were the same shape, and they were still very enticing – and it made me feel horrible just looking at them. Brown eyes.

  That were wide with shock.

  I frowned. Shock? Yes, he looked shocked. His eyes were wide, and he'd just frozen where he was. He looked as though he was trying to think logically, but wasn't getting very far. His eyes darted down, and seemed to grow even wider. I followed his gaze.

  There, across my upper arm, was a nasty long scar. Supposedly, I'd been born with it. But my dream had told me otherwise. My dream had told me it was a self-inflicted wound in Moria. 

  I glanced back into his eyes, seeing the shock – and the pain. There seemed to be tears in his eyes. "No no no no no no no no…" I kept repeating this to myself quietly, watching as a fellow actor – Merry, my heart told me, but my mind said 'Dominic' – rested his hand on the small of Orlando's back and led him inside the building, but his eyes didn't seem to leave me until he was finally past the door. I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding.

"Damn, that was great," Rosen laughed. She glanced at me. "Are you okay?"

"I…will be," I said eventually, forcing a smile to my lips.

"Do you have cramps?" She asked.

"What? No, why?" 

"You're grimacing."

  I flinched, and rolled my eyes exasperatedly.

 "Andy, you're as white as a ghost."

"Aren't I always," I replied hollowly. "Look, Rosy, I'll meet you at the Thistle and Crown in a while, okay? You'll be meeting Chuck there anyway. I'll be there soon."

  Rosen gave me a worried look.

"Trust me, darlin'," I said softly. "I need a few moments to clear my head."

  She nodded. "Be careful, honey." With that, she patted my shoulder, and walked off. I took a deep breath, before heading off in an opposite direction. I came to a small park, that was surprisingly empty. I'd have thought the fan girls would flood here for a quick piss-about before going back to mob the poor actors again. 

  The actors. Exactly the same as the Fellowship had been.

"In my dream," I said aloud. 

  Carrie had been tough. Even when she'd been caught in her lowest moments, she'd made snappy retorts; she'd been able to define what was real and what wasn't.

  I was a broken woman. One dream and I'd been smashed to smithereens. One simple fucking dream and I was thinking that my life wasn't worth living. One dream where someone so perfect had loved me – or at least, my mind's simulation of me. And I'd loved him – and we were perfect, we were happy despite the situation we were in. And it was all a dream.

  It was mystery as to why Orlando had looked shocked. Maybe he'd seen the mess I was in and had felt incredible pity for the 'young homeless woman who looked like she'd been hit by a freight train'. Lovely. Nice to know I'd be able to attract pity from even the most untouchable people. 

  I walked over to a swing, sitting down on it with a careless slump. The seat was wet, but my leather jacket prevented my arse from taking the brunt. I clutched the chains, feeling the coolness of them send tingles up my arms, raising the little hairs. I swung the swing in lazy circles, gazing at the small puddles in the ground as the fresh rain drops caused miniature ripples spread throughout them.

  This was my life. Not the life of Carrie, the one who had Legolas. She was just a figment of my imagination. Legolas…was a figment of Tolkien's imagination and had been brought to life by an actor whose good looks had merely caught my eye. That was all.

  I raised my eyes to the grey skies, and sang softly:

"_Empty spaces - what are we living for  
Abandoned places - I guess we know the score  
On and on, does anybody know what we are looking for...  
Another hero, another mindless crime  
Behind the curtain, in the pantomime  
Hold the line, does anybody want to take it anymore  
  
_

_The show must go on  
The show must go on, yeah  
Inside my heart is breaking  
My make - up may be flaking  
But my smile still stays on  
  
Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance  
Another heartache, another failed romance  
On and on, does anybody know what we are living for ?  
I guess I'm learning (I'm learning learning learning)  
I must be warmer now  
I'll soon be turning (turning turning turning)  
Round the corner now  
Outside the dawn is breaking  
But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free  
  
_

_The show must go on  
The show must go on, yeah yeah  
Ooh, inside my heart is breaking  
My make - up may be flaking  
But my smile still stays on  
  
Yeah yeah, whoa wo oh oh  
  
My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies  
Fairytales of yesterday will grow but never die  
I can fly - my friends  
  
_

_The show must go on (go on, go on, go on) yeah yeah  
The show must go on (go on, go on, go on)  
I'll face it with a grin  
I'm never giving in  
On - with the show  
  
Ooh, I'll top the bill, I'll overkill  
I have to find the will to carry on  
On with the show  
On with the show  
The show - the show must go on_." (Queen, The Show Must Go On)

"Indeed it must," a rather amused voice said. I glanced down from the heavens and gazed into the twinkling blue eyes of Gandalf. No, not Gandalf. Sir Ian McKellen. He was standing there in his suit, just plain standing in the rain, as though he didn't notice. But then, I was wearing less than he was, and I didn't notice either. I'd been numb all morning, and it still hadn't worn off. "One must ask," he continued. "Why a young lady such as yourself is sitting out in the rain, wearing so little, and singing such a song?"

"One might also ask why you aren't at the premiere," I retorted sharply, not in the mood for games.

"Ahhh," he said, and a smile spread over his face. "You haven't changed a bit, I see."

  I cast him a dark but curious glance. He merely sat on the swing next to me, not minding that it was wet. It was so hard not to call him Gandalf, but I merely bit out, "Do I know you, sir?"

  He smiled. "Perhaps not, my dear. But I most certainly know you." He glanced at my arm. "I caught myself on that spike once, too. But I tended to my wound before it could scar. I suppose in a way, it was a good thing you didn't…"

  Spike…oh my…how did he know?

"You mostly certainly have had a rough time of it, haven't you…oh dear. What is your name, child? I can only suppose that it isn't Carrie anymore."

  I sprung up. "_What_?! Look, I don't know why you came here or how you know this stuff, but you are genuinely making me crap myself here."

  He chuckled. "Oh, I am sorry, dear…hmmm, your name, then?"

  I just stared at him, disbelieving. How the hell did this actor – this actor who was a Sir no less – know about my dream? And how could he be so collected and suave? In the end, I just said, "Andariel."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Andariel?"

"My father's a Diablo II fan," I said, still eyeing Sir Ian cautiously. 

  Even if he didn't know what the hell I was talking about, he nodded. "Well," he said, standing. "I can only guess that you desire an explanation?"

"That would be appreciated," I replied sarcastically, before remembering that Carrie had once said the same thing to Gandalf. When he'd told her of the _morihinprophecy at Edoras._

  He chuckled. "Yes, very good. No change at all. Well, my dear. Shall we get out of the rain? I know a fabulous little pub named the Nauticalia. Come. Let us get in the dry warmth and get drinks before you press me for information."

  I could only follow him, dumbfounded. How the hell did he know? Something was very off.

  The pub was indeed quite nice. It lived up to its name, and looked very much like you'd expect a nautically oriented place to look – wood panelled with ships in the bottle and anchors, life-rings, even skipper's wheels. I asked for a coffee, and Sir Ian chose a tea – we both wanted something warm, and I wanted no alcohol – I didn't want my mind to be too fogged to understand what he was going to tell me.

  When he returned, he placed my coffee in front of me and sat opposite. We were sitting in a secluded booth – secluded from both prying eyes and prying ears. He took a sip of his tea. "Hmmm, lovely," he said, smiling. "They make very good tea here."

"How do you know about my dream?" I asked bluntly. I'd been influenced by my brother, Tommy…no, his name wasn't Tommy now. It was Greg. 

"Ah, of course," Sir Ian smiled. "Well then, Andariel…Andariel. Odd name. Diablo II, you say?"

  I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. But then I gave in to the impulse and did anyway. "Yes. Computer game. I frankly would have preferred to have been named after one of the Rogues in the camp, instead of a demon woman with her tits out and tentacles coming out of her back, but life's a bitch. Now – I want to know how you know so damn much, sir."

"Oh, please, call me Ian," he smiled. I nodded impatiently.

"I shall tell you everything – but do not interrupt. I shall move at my own pace. And I should begin by giving you a reason for my knowing. You see, I am Gandalf."

  I stared at him. Then I burst out laughing.

"Something amuses you?" He asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Y-you're Gandalf?! Look, darlin', you may play him in a movie, but…"

"And yet it wasn't so ridiculous for you to believe that your name was Carrie?"

  I shut up instantly. He smiled knowingly. "Let me tell you a story, and as I said before, no interruptions." I nodded, taking a sip of coffee. "Am I right in guessing that you remember what you were told in Edoras? Of Dínramiel?"

  I nodded.

"Good, good. So you remember the events leading up to her death. Her body was caught in limbo. Her soul, however, made it to the other side. It entered the womb of a mortal woman, and was later born as a baby girl. Carolina."

  I gasped, sloshing my coffee.

"Yes, Carrie existed. Astonishing, but true. Now – you should remember this as well – an Elven prophecy book proclaimed of the Dark Child, the _Morihin. It was a prophecy where Sauron would find the woman who had once been of Middle Earth to carry this evil babe. But alas, although he achieved in impregnating her – with the help of his puppet, Saruman – he did not plan on her siblings following her."_

  I nodded, urging him on.

"At the same time," Sir Ian continued, still sipping his drink, "Legolas and his soul mate were reunited. Although, of course, all that changed when Carrie died on the battlefield at Helm's Deep. However, the world works in strange ways. The soul came back again. Under the name of Andariel."

  My eyes widened, but true to my word, I said nothing. 

"Although, of course, Andariel – you – had a life with fewer demons than she did. Can you guess why?"

"Because she defeated them," I said quietly.

"Quite correct," Sir Ian nodded. "Carrie defeated her inner demons whilst in Middle Earth, paving the way for less conflicts in the future. You see, not only had she been judging her siblings by their flaws, but she was also seeing the things about herself that she hated in them. Once she realised this, she was able to atone for her mistakes."

  I gave him a look that clearly told him I wanted to ask a question. He nodded to me, and I said, "What happened to Legolas?"

"Ahh, Legolas," Sir Ian sighed, and I instantly felt my heart sink slightly. "He had been distraught when he heard of Carrie's death. After she had died in Aragorn's arms, Aragorn carried her body to safety. Legolas was the one to guard her body, and he was present at the funeral. He lived long enough only to complete his part in the War of the Ring. After that, he passed of a broken heart, as Elves are prone to do."

  I hadn't noticed a tear had slid down my cheek, until Sir Ian brushed it away with his thumb. "Do not despair, Andariel. Did you honestly think he would let you go so easily?"

  I raised an eyebrow. 

"He too was reincarnated, my dear. In the young, talented Mr Bloom. As have the entire Fellowship been reincarnated as the splendid young actors in the movie. Astonishing, I know, but as I said, the world works in strange and mysterious ways. They were all brought together by some greater means to retell their tale, with only I being aware of my previous life as Gandalf the Istar."

"Forgive me for being shocked here," I said, shaking my head. "This is just too amazing…"

"I quite understand," Sir Ian nodded, smiling softly. 

"Why…why does he look different, and I look the same?" I asked. "Why do all of you look different?"

"Ah, yes. Well, you see, whenever a soul is reincarnated, the body takes on some of the similarities of the past body the soul had, but the features have to change at least a little to fit the parentage. You, shall we say, were manoeuvred into your mother's womb, rather than finding your own way there. The necklace Galadriel gave you was one of preserving powers. It made sure that you would take on the same appearance, so that when the time came, at least one of you – if the other was slightly unrecognisable – would be able to recognise the other. Although, we have no fear of that, do we? Young Orlando looks fairly similar to his past self."

  The necklace…I reached into my shirt and pulled it out, staring at it. I remembered Galadriel's words. _For when the future is unrecognisable_. 

"But I thought it was given to me by a friend of my family?" I blinked.

"And so it was," Sir Ian smiled slyly. I shook my head.

"I should have known," I muttered. "Well, Gandalf, I must say – I'm shocked beyond all imagination."

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Sir Ian commented. He reached into his jacket and removed a folded piece of paper that looked like a clipping from a magazine. "Here. Look at this, and tell me what you see."

  I took it warily, and opened it up. A slight smile came to my face, as I saw the serious looking face of Orlando as he posed for the camera. "Lego…Orlando," I corrected myself.

"Study it closely," Sir Ian pressed.

  I raked my eyes over the picture. So beautiful…wait. I pointed to it. "The tiger eye necklace!"

"Indeed," he nodded. "He too acquired that necklace from 'a friend of the family'."

"Why did he look so shocked to see me?" I asked. "He…he seemed to recognise my scar."

"Yes," Sir Ian chuckled. "That might be because he had a similar dream to your own – only from Legolas's point of view, of course." At my dumbfounded expression, he said, "Back when I was still Gandalf, I set a time-delayed spell to trigger the story of your love to remind you both of your past in the form of a dream not too long before you would meet."

"Why would you do that?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper. I was overwhelmed.

"My dear, your souls will most likely still be chasing each other thousands of years into the future. They're two halves of a whole. I merely wished to make sure that you both had at least one lifetime together. It would be a shame not to." He paused, and said, "Do you remember what Legolas spoke to you in Edoras? The Elvish? _Ten'oio_. Lye nauva alye'na ten'oio."_ At my shocked look, he said, "Legolas told me, do not fear. No invasion of privacy was committed."_

  Those words…I had heard them – no, Carrie had heard them – before the passing. And at Edoras, with Legolas. "I remember," I murmured.

"Translated, it means: _forever. We will be together forever_. He meant it – he knew as well as I that your souls would never cease to chase each other."

  I smiled, my eyes watery. I wiped away at the moistness of my eyes. It hadn't been a dream. Maybe if I had found out under different circumstances, I wouldn't have been happy. But I realised that Legolas was here too. And he knew who I was. The only question being, would he still care? He was an actor now, a famous Hollywood hottie. And I was still the girl next door. Or at least, the girl who's as common as muck. 

"Do not worry yourself, my dear," Sir Ian said, smiling at me kindly. "I am certain he still loves you. Souls don't just forget. Without my assistance, you both would have felt something, even if it wouldn't have been as strong."

  I nodded, for lack of anything better to do. I was Carrie. Orlando was Legolas. 

"I really must leave now, Andariel," Sir Ian said, rising to his feet. "And I before I leave, I must comment on one thing. You, child, are exactly as I remember you. Both as Dínramiel and as Carrie. Though more as the latter." A smile crinkled his eyes in the corners. "Anyhow, I must be leaving. You see, there is a certain young man I must recount this story to. He will be wanting an explanation, no doubt."

  I grinned, shaking my head. Part of me was worried that Orlando Bloom wouldn't pull through as Sir Ian said he would. But it wasn't as if I could do anything about it. It was out of my hands now. 

"Perhaps you both could conveniently bump into each other later? Around four-ish, perhaps?"

  I chuckled, knowing what he was talking about. I looked at my watch. It was about three o'clock. "I'll probably be at the Thistle and Crown with my mate," I said.

"Perhaps I should take down your number anyway?" He suggested. I gave him a suspicious look, and he laughed jollily. I picked up a napkin, and when I couldn't find a pen, I removed my eyeliner pencil from my jacket pocket and scribbled my number down, writing 'Andariel' above the number. I handed the napkin to him.

"Good, good," Sir Ian smiled. "Well, off I go to tell Mr Bloom everything that I know. I shall be seeing you, I suspect."

  I nodded to him, and as he moved to leave, I said, "And, Ian?"

  He glanced back at me.

"_Diola__ lle," I grinned._

  He laughed.

"_Lle_ creoso_, Andariel, __lle__ creoso." And with that, he left. _

  I stared at the cup for a moment. The story made perfect sense. As much as anyone else would have called Sir Ian a crackpot, deep inside I knew what he had said was true. I felt it. 

  With a smile, I stood up and prepared to walk out into the rain, when I paused. I unwrapped my jacket from around my waist and shrugged it on. Then, with a speed I rarely had, I ran out of the pub, through the rain, and all the way to the Thistle and Crown.

_You think you're in love  
Like it's a real sure thing  
But every time you fall  
You get yo' ass in a sling  
You used to be strong  
But now it's "ooh baby please"…_

  
  I pushed open the door, walking in to the nicely lit pub, the warmth welcoming me. It wouldn't have before – I would have found the warmth as miserable as I had been. But I wasn't miserable anymore. Wary and worried, maybe. But not miserable.

  Rosen spotted me, and left Chuck and some other people at the table, running over with a worried expression on her face. "Jesus Christ, Andy, where've you been?"

  I grinned at her. "Rosen, you would not believe what has happened to me…"

_'Cause falling in love is so hard on the knees…_

**THE END**

A/N: There! That's this story done with. It's sort of odd to finish it, seeing as it occupied a lot of my time. But hey – a lot of people have been asking for a sequel, and though I'm not gonna say anything more, this is what I _will_ say: there will DEFINITELY be another story related to this one, and it will be called Ilfirinamin, so, if you keep your eyes out, the saga _will_ continue *wink*. Thanks again, and I'll hopefully see you during Ilfirinamin. There is also a story co-written by myself and Bianca *wink* called I'm Your Fella, Cinderella! And you can find it under her author name of suziefox.

  ~*~@nd@®iel666~*~


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